HIS  SECOND  WIFE 


BY 

ERNEST  POOLE 

Author  of  "The  Harbor,"  "His  Family1 


$fcttt  fork 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1918 

A.U  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1917 
BY  THE  MCCLURE  PUBLICATIONS,  INC. 

Copyright,  1917 
BY  ERNEST  POOLE 

Copyright,  1918 
BY  ERNEST  POOLE 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  May,   1918 


TO  M.  A. 


HIS  SECOND  WIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

ON  a  train  speeding  toward  New  York,  in  one 
of  the  parlour  cars  two  young  women  sat 
facing  each  other,  talking  and  smiling,  deeply  ab 
sorbed.  They  took  little  apparent  notice  of  any 
one  else  in  the  car,  but  most  of  the  people  near 
them  kept  throwing  curious  glances  their  way. 

These  glances  differed  vastly,  as  did  the 
thoughts  behind  them.  A  tall,  genial  Westerner, 
who  looked  as  though  he  had  come  from  a  ranch, 
smiled  frankly  and  hungrily  on  the  pair  and  told 
himself  with  emphasis,  "  Those  two  girls  are  fifty- 
fifty.  I'd  like  a  dozen  of  each  brand."  And  a 
slim  college  boy  with  fresh,  eager  eyes  kept  dart 
ing  quick  looks  from  time  to  time  at  the  older  of 
the  two,  the  blonde.  He  asked  himself  confus 
edly,  "HowM  I  start  in  with  a  woman  like  her?" 
And  exciting  pictures  rose  in  his  mind.  In  the 
meantime  an  elderly  lady,  with  a  sharp,  inquisi 
tive  air,  had  put  down  the  ages  of  the  girls  at 
twenty-two  and  thirty. 

"They're  sisters,"  she  decided,  but  then  she 
nearly  changed  her  mind.  They  were  such  con- 


^  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

trasted  types.  The  blonde  gave  an  appearance 
of  sleek  and  moneyed  elegance,  with  carefully  un 
dulated  hair,  a  rounded  bust,  and  pretty  features 
smooth  and  plump,  with  a  retrousse  nose  and  rich, 
full  lips,  and  a  manner  of  easy  assurance.  The 
brunette  was  younger  and  less  developed,  slim 
and  lithe,  her  curling  black  hair  rebellious,  her 
features  more  clean-cut  and  clear,  with  wide, 
eager  lips  and  warm  brown  eyes  set  wide  apart. 

"Nevertheless,  they  are  sisters,"  the  little  lady 
firmly  concluded.  "The  family  resemblance  is 
quite  unmistakable."  And  frowning  in  perplex 
ity,  "But  if  they  are  sisters,"  she  went  on,  "why 
is  only  one  in  mourning?"  She  looked  at  the 
younger  of  the  two,  who  was  simply  dressed  in 
black;  and  then  at  the  blonde,  whose  sable  cloak 
put  back  from  her  shoulders  revealed  a  stylish 
travelling  suit.  "And  why  is  one  rich  and  the 
other  poor?" 

Meanwhile  a  young  woman  nearby,  with  a  fat, 
discontented  face,  regarded  the  blonde  with  envy 
and  thought, 

"She's  an  actress  with  her  maid.  Why  can't 
Harry  allow  me  a  maid,  a  real  clever  one  like 
that?  Men  see  these  actresses  on  the  stage  and 
get  to  expecting  things  from  their  wives — without 
being  willing  to  pay  for  it !  Think  what  that  girl 
could  make  of  me!" 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  6 

A  quiet,  able-looking  woman  sitting  just  across 
the  aisle,  who  travelled  for  a  clothing  store,  was 
watching  the  " maid,"  the  brunette,  and  was  think 
ing,  "She  makes  her  clothes  herself.  She  has 
been  the  beauty  of  her  small  town.  She's  smart, 
too,  and  original.  That  collar  was  a  clever  idea 
— and  that  fichu  of  lace.  A  pity  she's  in  mourn 
ing.  " 

But  the  large  fat  man  behind  the  two  girls  had 
little  thought  for  the  brunette.  His  heavy  eyes, 
quite  motionless,  were  upon  the  older  girl.  He 
took  in  her  sensuous  shoulders,  the  rounded  con 
tour  of  her  bust,  her  glossy  coiffure,  the  small, 
fine  hairs  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  And  he 
thought,  "Yes,  she  has  been  loved  pretty  well." 
She  was  talking,  and  he  could  just  hear  her  voice, 
soft  and  provocative,  like  the  little  gloved  hand 
on  her  chair.  By  her  eyes,  which  were  of  a  violet 
hue,  he  saw  she  was  aware  of  his  gaze.  Some 
thing  gleamed  in  them  that  sent  a  thrill  far  down 
into  his  sluggish  soul. 

In  the  meantime  a  kindly  old  lady,  whose  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  brunette,  noticed  how  hard  she 
was  listening,  noticed  the  fresh  expectancy  in  her 
parted  lips  and  clear  brown  eyes,  and  asked  with 
a  touch  of  sadness, 

"I  wonder  what's  waiting  for  you  in  New  York? 
I'm  afraid  I  don't  like  this  companion  of  yours. 


4  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

And  you're  so  very  young,  my  dear,  and  eager 
and  gay.    And  you  are  to  be  so  beautiful. " 

And  while  all  these  conjectures  were  being 
made  about  them  both,  the  brunette  was  wrapt  in 
her  own  inner  fancies,  vivid  and  exciting.  Listen 
ing  to  her  sister,  swift  thoughts  and  expectations 
mingled  with  the  memories  of  the  life  behind  her. 
As  she  stared  out  of  the  window,  fields  and  woods 
and  houses  kept  whirling  back  out  of  her  view — 
and  so  it  was  with  her  memories.  It  was  hard  to 
keep  hold  of  any  one. 

She  had  lived  with  her  father,  a  lonely  old  man 
in  a  small,  quiet  town  in  Ohio,  down  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  State.  He  was  dead,  and  she  was 
going  to  live  with  her  married  sister  in  New  York. 
He  was  dead  and  his  daughter  was  not  sad, 
though  she'd  been  his  only  close  companion  and 
had  loved  him  tenderly.  And  this  brought  a 
guilty  feeling  now,  which  she  fought  clown  by  tell 
ing  herself  there  had  been  little  sadness  in  his 
death.  She  pictured  her  father  making  his  speech 
at  the  unveiling  of  the  Monument.  How  happy 
and  proud  he  had  appeared.  For  half  his  life 
old  Colonel  Knight  had  exhorted  his  fellow  towns 
men  and  painted  dark  the  shame  of  their  town: 
"The  only  county  seat  in  Ohio  with  no  soldiers' 
monument,  sir!"  He  had  held  countless  meet- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  0 

ings,  he  had  gone  begging  to  his  neighbours,  and 
every  dollar  he  himself  could  save  had  gone  into 
that  dream  of  his.  At  last  he  had  triumphed; 
and  after  all  the  excitement  of  his  final  victory, 
the  old  soldier  had  made  his  speech,  and  died. 

Around  him  and  the  monument  and  the  old 
frame  house  on  River  Street,  the  lazy,  shallow 
river,  the  high  school  near  the  court  house,  Dem- 
ley's  Tavern  across  the  square,  the  line  of  shops 
on  either  side,  the  new  "movie"  theatre  of  pink 
tile,  and  the  old  yellow  church  on  the  corner — the 
pictures  of  her  life  trooped  by,  the  pictures  of 
her  last  few  years — with  the  miracle,  the  discov 
ery  that  she  herself,  Ethel  Knight,  who  had  al 
ways  been  considered  "  plain, "  was  slowly  now 
developing  into  a  beautiful  woman.  That  brought 
memories  which  thrilled — various  faces  of  men, 
young  and  old,  looks  and  glances,  words  over 
heard,  and  countless  small  attentions.  But  these 
came  in  mere  fragments,  rising  only  to  be  whirled 
back  again  into  the  past,  as  the  train  sped  on  to 
ward  the  city. 

She  was  going  to  live  in  New  York  with  her 
married  sister,  Amy  Lanier.  And  from  looking 
out  of  the  car  window,  Ethel  would  turn  quickly, 
throw  a  swift  glance  at  her  sister  and  smile. 
Amy  seemed  quite  wonderful — Amy  with  her  ele 
gance,  her  worldly  assurance,  her  smiling  good- 


b  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

humour  and  knowledge  of  "life,"  her  apparent 
content,  her  sense  of  well  being,  of  being  a  joy  to 
look  at  and  love;  Amy  who  had  an  adoring  hus 
band,  Amy  who  spent  money  like  water,  Amy  with 
dash  and  beauty  and  style. 

"New  York  just  fairly  shimmering  in  every 
thing  she  wears!"  thought  Ethel. 

Amy's  sable  cloak  was  long.  She  had  worn  it 
at  the  funeral,  with  a  black  skirt  and  a  heavy  veil. 
But  the  veil  she  had  put  into  her  bag  as  soon  as 
they  had  left  the  town,  and  the  cloak  thrown  back 
revealed  rich  colours,  the  glitter  and  glint  of  a 
diamond  brooch ;  and  she  wore  a  small  blue  feath 
ered  hat  which  threw  out  changing  colours  in  the 
play  of  light  in  the  car.  There  was  to  be  no  more 
mourning.  Amy  didn't  believe  in  that;  she  was 
good-humouredly  arguing  her  young  sister  out  of 
it.  And  Ethel,  smiling  back  at  her,  saw  how  sen 
sible  it  was.  She  felt  death  and  sadness  slipping 
away,  and  the  life  in  the  city  opening. 

Since  Amy 's  marriage  five  years  ago,  Ethel  had 
only  seen  her  twice—once  when  Amy  had  come 
home,  appearing  resplendent  with  Joe  her  hus 
band  in  a  large  new  touring  car,  and  had  sent  a 
wave  of  excitement  through  the  quiet  little  town ; 
and  again  when  she  had  asked  Ethel  to  visit  her 
for  a  week  in  New  York.  That  had  been  a 
glamourous  week,  but  it  had  not  been  repeated. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  7 

For  nearly  three  years  they  had  not  met.  In  that 
time  had  come  the  change  in  Ethel's  own  appear 
ance.  And  glancing  now  at  Amy,  she  read  in 
those  clear,  smiling  eyes  that  Amy  was  relieved 
and  pleased  and  surprised  at  the  striking  beauty 
which  had  come  to  her  young  sister.  There  was 
even  a  tone  of  expectancy  in  Amy's  talk  of  their 
life  in  New  York. 

"She  thinks  I'll  get  on  finely!"  This  exciting 
thought  kept  rising  repeatedly  in  Ethel's  mind. 
And  with  it  came  the  sturdy  resolve,  "I  mustn't 
be  too  humble  now,  or  too  dependent  on  her.  I 
must  show  her  I'm  somebody  all  by  myself — that 
I  won't  be  a  burden  on  her  hands.  I've  got  to 
make  a  life  of  my  own — find  work  perhaps — or 
marry ! ' ' 

Then  all  such  resolutions  would  merge  in 
the  images  vivid  and  new,  which  kept  rising 
in  her  mind,  of  the  life  she  would  have  in  the 
city. 

She  had  a  good  voice.  Old  Mr.  Eiggs,  the  or 
ganist  in  the  yellow  church  at  home,  had  planted 
that  idea  deep  in  her  mind.  If  only  her  voice 
could  be  brought  out!  She  hadn't  much  money 
for  teachers,  but  how  she  would  work  if  she  got  a 
chance!  In  her  heart  she  knew  she  had  no  great 
voice,  but  gaily  she  let  her  fancy  go  and  pictured 
herself  on  the  stage.  .  .  .  This  image  passed  and 


8  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

was  replaced  by  a  platform  in  an  immense  audi 
torium  crowded  with  cheering  women  and  girls. 
Suffrage  banners  were  all  about,  and  she  was 
speaking  to  the  crowd.  Her  voice  rang  clear  and 
resolute.  .  .  .  There  were  other  dreams  and  pic 
tures — of  dances  in  New  York  cafes,  of  theatre 
parties,  trips  to  Paris,  hosts  of  friends.  And  the 
vague  thought  flashed  into  her  mind, 

"What  possibilities  for  life — in  me — me — Ethel 
Knight !" 

She  went  on  listening,  building.  She  took  in 
fragments  of  what  Amy  said  and  mingled  them 
with  things  she  had  read  and  pictures  she'd  seen 
in  books,  magazines  and  Sunday  papers ;  or  with 
things  that  she  had  heard  in  the  long  discussions 
in  her  club  of  high  school  girls,  over  suffrage, 
marriage,  Bernard  Shaw.  She  thought  of  the 
opera,  concerts,  plays.  She  saw  Fifth  Avenue  at 
night  agleam  with  countless  motors,  torrents  of 
tempestuous  life — and  numberless  shop  windows, 
hats  and  dainty  gowns  and  shoes.  She  pictured 
herself  at  dinners  and  balls,  men  noticing  her 
everywhere.  "As  they  are  doing  now,"  she 
thought,  "this  very  minute  in  this  car!"  Out  of 
all  the  pictures  rose  one  of  a  church  wedding. 
And  then  this  picture  faded,  and  changed  to  that 
of  her  father's  funeral  in  the  old  frame  yellow 
church.  She  frowned,  her  brown  eyes  saddened  and 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

suddenly  grew  wet  witha  deep  homesick  tenderness. 

But  in  a  few  moments  she  smiled  again;  once 
more  her  pulse-beat  quickened.  For  Amy  was 
talking  good-humouredly.  And  Ethel's  eyes,  now 
curious,  now  plainly  thrilled,  now  quizzical, 
amused  and  pleased,  kept  watching  her,  and  she 
asked  herself, 

"Shall  I  ever  be  like  that?" 

The  picture  she  had  of  her  sister  grew  each 
moment  more  warm  and  desirable.  Eagerly  she 
explored  it  by  the  quick  questions  she  threw  out. 

They  were  coming  into  the  city  now,  in  a  dusk 
rich  with  twinkling  lights.  In  the  car  the  pas 
sengers  were  stirring.  Amy  stood  up  to  be 
brushed — sleek  and  alluring,  worldly  wise — and 
the  fat  man  in  the  chair  behind  her  opened  wide 
his  heavy  eyes.  Then  Ethel  stood  up — and  in  the 
poise  of  her  figure,  slim  and  lithe  with  its  lovely 
lines,  in  her  carriage,  in  her  slender  neck,  in  her 
dark  face  with  its  features  clear,  her  lips  a  little 
parted,  and  in  the  look  in  her  brown  eyes — there 
was  something  which  made  glances  turn  from  all 
down  the  softly  lighted  car.  There  was  even  a 
brief  silence.  And  Ethel  drew  a  sudden  breath, 
as  from  close  behind  her  the  soft  voice  of  the 
darky  porter  drawled : 

"Yes'm — yes'm — dis  is  New  York.  We's 
comin'  right  into  de  station  now." 


CHAPTEE  II 

4  '\A7"ELL'  Ethel  my  love,  we're  here  at  last! 
V  V  ...  It  must  be  after  midnight.  I  won 
der  when  I  '11  get  to  sleep  1  .  .  .  Not  that  I  care  es 
pecially.  What  a  quaint  habit  sleeping  is. ' ' 

She  had  formed  the  habit  long  ago  of  holding 
these  inner  conversations.  Her  father  had  been 
a  silent  man,  and  often  as  she  faced  him  at  meals 
Ethel  had  talked  and  talked  to  herself  in  quite  as 
animated  a  way  as  though  she  were  saying  it  all 
aloud.  Now  she  sat  up  suddenly  in  bed  and  turned 
on  the  light  just  over  her  head,  and  amiably  she 
surveyed  her  room.  It  was  a  pretty,  fresh,  little 
room  with  flowered  curtains,  a  blue  rug,  a  luxuri 
ous  chaise  longue  and  a  small  French  dressing 
table.  Very  cheerful,  very  empty.  "It  looks," 
she  decided,  ' '  just  like  the  bed  feels.  I  'm  the  first 
fellow  who  has  been  here. 

"No,"  she  corrected  herself  in  a  moment, 
"that's  very  ignorant  of  you,  my  dear.  This  is  a 
New  York  apartment,  you  know.  All  kinds  of 
other  fellows  have  been  in  this  room  ahead  of 
me ;  and  they've  lain  awake  by  the  hour  here,  plan 
ning  how  to  get  married  or  divorced,  or  getting 

ready  to  write  a  great  book  or  make  a  million 

10 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  11 

dollars,  or  sing  in  grand  opera  or  murder  their 
child.  All  the  things  in  the  newspapers  have  been 
arranged  in  this  spot  where  I  lie!  Now  I'll  turn 
out  the  light, "  she  added,  "and  sink  quietly  to 
rest!" 

But  in  the  dark  she  lay  listening  to  the  strange 
low  hub-hub  from  outside.  And  it  made  her  think 
of  what  she  had  seen  an  hour  before,  when  at  the 
open  window,  resting  her  elbows  on  the  sill,  she 
had  begun  to  make  her  acquaintance  with  her  back 
yard — a  yawning  abyss  of  brick  and  cement  which 
went  down  and  down  to  cement  below,  and  up 
and  up  to  a  strip  of  blue  sky,  and  to  right  and 
to  left  went  stretching  away  with  rows  and  rows 
of  windows.  And  now  as  the  murmurs  and  quick 
low  cries,  piano  music,  a  baritone  voice  and  a 
sudden  burst  of  laughter,  came  to  her  ears,  she 
gravely  named  her  neighbours: 

"  Wives  and  husbands,  divorcees,  secret  lovers, 
grafters,  burglars,  suffragettes,  actresses  and  an 
archists  and  millionaires  and  poor  young  things — 
all  spending  a  quiet  evening  at  home.  And  that's 
so  sensible  in  you  all.  You'll  need  your  strength 
for  tomorrow." 

From  the  city  far  and  near  came  numberless 
other  voices.  From  street  cars,  motors  and  the 
L,  from  boats  far  off  on  the  river  this  calm  and 
still  October  night,  from  Broadway  and  from 


12  HIS   SECOND  WIFE 

Harlem  and  the  many  teeming  slums,  came  the 
vast  murmuring  voice  of  the  town.  And  she 
thought, 

"Pm  becoming  a  part  of  all  this!"  She  lis 
tened  a  little  and  added,  "It  breathes,  like  some 
thing  quite  alive. ' '  She  smiled  and  added  approv 
ingly,  "Quite  right,  my  dear,  just  breathe  right 
on.  But  don't  go  and  breathe  as  though  you  were 
sleeping.  Keep  me  company  tonight." 

Suddenly  she  remembered  how  in- their  taxi  from 
the  train,  as  they  had  sped  up  Park  Avenue  all 
agleam  with  its  cold  blue  lights  and  she  had  chat 
tered  gaily  of  anything  that  came  into  her  head, 
twice  she  had  caught  in  her  sister's  eyes  that  glim 
mer  of  expectancy.  "Amy  feels  sure  I  will  be  a 
success!"  Ethel  thrilled  at  the  recollection,  and 
thought,  "Oh,  yes,  you're  quite  a  wag,  my  love; 
and  as  soon  as  you  get  over  being  so  young  you'll 
probably  make  a  name  for  yourself.  No  dinner  or 
suffrage  party  will  ever  again  be  quite  complete 
without  your  droll  dry  humour.  ...  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  going  to  sleep ! ' ' 

And  she  yawned  excitedly.  From  somewhere 
far  in  the  distance  there  came  to  her  ears  the  dull 
bellowing  roar  of  an  ocean  liner  leaving  dock  at 
one  o'clock  to  start  the  long  journey  over  the 
sea. 

"I'm  going  to  Paris,  too!"  she  resolved.    Her 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  13 

fancy  travelled  over  the  ocean  and  roamed  madly 
for  awhile,  with  the  help  of  many  photographs 
which  she  had  seen  in  magazines.  But  she  wear 
ied  of  that  and  soon  returned. 

"Well,  what  do  I  think  of  Amy's  home!" 

She  went  over  in  her  memory  her  eager  inspec 
tion  of  the  apartment.  The  rooms  had  been  dark 
when  they  arrived ;  for  they  had  not  been  expected 
so  soon,  and  a  somewhat  dishevelled  Irish  maid 
had  opened  the  door  and  let  them  in.  With  a 
quick  annoyed  exclamation,  Amy  had  switched  on 
the  lights ;  and  room  after  room  as  it  leaped  into 
view  had  appeared  to  Ethel's  eyes  like  parts  of  a 
suite  in  some  rich  hotel.  And  although  as  her 
sister  went  about  moving  chairs  a  bit  this  way 
and  that  and  putting  things  on  the  table  to  rights, 
it  took  on  a  little  more  the  semblance  of  some 
body's  home,  still  that  first  impression  had  re 
mained  in  Ethel's  mind. 

"People  have  sat  in  this  room,"  she  had 
thought,  "but  they  haven't  lived  here.  They 
haven't  sewed  or  read  aloud  or  talked  things  out 
and  out  and  out. ' ' 

To  her  sister  she  had  been  loud  in  her  praise. 
What  a  perfectly  lovely  room  it  was,  what  a  won 
derful  lounge  with  the  table  behind  it,  and  what 
lamps,  what  a  heavenly  rug  and  how  well  it  went 
with  the  curtains!  When  Amy  lighted  the  gas 


14  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

logs,  Ethel  had  drawn  a  quick  breath  of  dismay. 
But  then  she  had  sharply  told  herself, 

' i This  isn't  an  old  frame  house  in  Ohio,  this  is 
a  gay  little  place  in  New  York!  You're  going  to 
love  it,  living  here!  And  you're  pretty  much  of 
a  kid,  my  dear,  to  be  criticizing  like  an  old  maid!" 

She  had  gone  into  Amy's  room,  and  there  her 
mood  had  quickly  changed.  For  the  curtains  and 
the  deep  soft  rug,  the  broad  low  dressing  table 
with  its  drop-light  shaded  in  chintz,  the  curious 
gold  lacquered  chair,  the  powder  boxes,  brushes, 
trays,  the  faint  delicious  perfume  of  the  place ;  and 
back  in  the  shadow,  softly  curtained,  the  low  wide 
luxurious  bed — had  given  to  her  the  feeling  that 
this  room  at  least  was  personal.  Here  two  people 
had  really  lived — a  man  and  a  woman.  There  had 
come  into  Ethel's  brown  eyes  a  mingling  of  con 
fused  delight  and  awkward  admiration.  And  her 
sister,  with  a  quick  look  and  a  smile,  had  lost  the 
slightly  ruffled  expression  her  face  had  worn  in 
the  other  rooms.  She  had  regained  her  ascend 
ancy. 

It  had  not  been  until  Ethel  was  left  in  her  own 
small  room  adjoining,  that  with  an  exclamation  of 
remembrance  and  surprise  she  had  stopped  un 
dressing,  opened  her  door  and  listened  in  the 
silence.  *  *  How  perfectly  uncanny ! ' '  Frowning  a 
moment,  puzzled,  her  eye  had  gone  to  the  only 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  15 

other  room  in  the  apartment,  down  at  the  end  of 
the  narrow  hall.  The  door  had  been  closed.  She 
had  stolen  to  it  and  listened,  but  at  first  she  had 
not  heard  a  sound.  Then  she  had  given  a  slight 
start,  had  knocked  softly  and  asked,  "May  I  come 
in?"  A  woman's  voice  with  a  hostile  note  had 
replied, ' '  Yes,  ma  'am. ' '  She  had  entered.  And  a 
moment  later,  down  on  her  knees  before  a  grave 
little  girl  of  two  who  sat  at  a  tiny  table  soberly 
having  her  supper,  Ethel  had  cried, 

"Oh,  you  adorable  baby!" 

For  a  time  she  had  tried  to  make  friends  with 
the  child,  but  the  voice  of  the  nurse  had  soon  cut 
in.  And  in  the  motherly  Scotch  face  Ethel  had 
detected  again  a  feeling  of  hostility.  "What 
for?"  she  had  asked.  And  the  answer  had  flashed 
into  her  mind.  ' '  She 's  angry  because  Amy  hasn  't 
been  in  to  see  Susette."  And  Ethel  had  frowned. 
"It's  funny.  If  I  had  been  away  three  days — " 

She  had  gone  back  to  her  own  room  and  began 
slowly  to  take  off  her  things.  And  a  few  minutes 
after  that,  she  had  heard  a  gruff  kindly  voice,  a 
man's  heavy  tread  and  a  glad  little  cry  from 
Amy's  room. 

"Joe  has  come  home,"  she  had  told  herself. 
"I  wonder  how  he  and  I  will  get  on." 

And  she  had  met  him  a  little  later  with  no  slight 
uneasiness.  But  this  had  been  at  once  dispelled. 


16  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Bather  tall  and  full  of  figure,  with  thick  curling 
hair  and  close-cut  moustache,  Joe  Lanier  at  thirty- 
five  still  gave  to  his  young  sister-in-law  the  im 
pression  of  kindly  friendliness  she  had  had  from 
him  some  years  before.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of  in  Joe.  But  she  had  noticed  the  change 
in  his  face,  the  slightly  tightened  harassed  expres 
sion.  And  she  had  thought, 

"You  poor  man.  How  hard  you  have  been 
working.'' 

And  yet  she  could  not  say  he  looked  tired,  for 
at  dinner  his  talk  had  been  almost  boyish  in  its 
welcoming  good  humour.  Later  he  had  drawn  her 
aside  and  had  said  with  a  touch  of  awkwardness, 

"No  use  in  talking  about  it,  of  course.  I  just 
want  you  to  know  I'm  so  glad  you're  here."  She 
had  clutched  his  hand  : 

"That's  nice  of  you,  Joe."  And  then  she  had 
turned  from  him,  and  with  a  sudden  quiver  inside 
she  had  added  quite  inaudibly:  "Oh,  Dad,  dear 
est!  I'm  so  homesick!  Just  this  minute — if  I 
could  be  back!" 

But  she  had  liked  Joe  that  evening. 

She  remembered  the  hungry  light  in  his  eyes. 
He  and  Amy  had  soon  gone  to  their  room.  And 
as  Ethel  thought  about  them  now,  lying  here  alone 
in  the  dark  she  felt  again  that  vague  delight  and 
confused  expectancy. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  17 

"How  much  of  all  this  is  coming  to  me?  .  .  . 
Everything,  I  guess,  but  sleep!" 

A  wisp  of  her  hair  fell  on  her  nose,  and  she  blew 
it  back  with  a  vicious,  "Pfew!" 


CHAPTER  in 

HER  first  month  in  town  was  a  season  of 
shopping  and  of  warm  anticipations — and 
then  came  a  sudden  crash.  Afterward  it  was  hard 
to  remember.  For  tragedy  entered  into  these 
rooms,  and  it  was  not  easy  to  look  back  and  see 
them  clearly  as  they  had  been.  That  first  month 
became  confused,  the  memories  uneven;  in  some 
spots  clear  and  vivid,  in  others  hazy  and  unreal. 

4 'I  want  you  to  be  gay,  my  dear,"  Amy  told  her 
at  the  start.  "You've  been  through  such  a  lonely 
time.  And  what  earthly  good  will  it  do  poor  Dad 
to  have  you  go  about  in  black!  You're  here  now 
and  you've  got  to  make  friends  and  a  place  for 
yourself.  If  he  were  alive  I  know  he'd  agree. 
He  'd  want  you  to  have  every  chance. ' ' 

So  they  started  in  to  shop.  And  though  Ethel 
had  her  memories,  her  moods  of  homesick  longing 
for  the  old  soldier  who  was  gone,  these  soon  be 
came  less  frequent.  There  was  little  time  to  be 
lonely  or  sad. 

Amy  herself  felt  new  youth  these  days.  Re 
lieved  of  the  first  uneasiness  with  which  she  had 
gone  to  Ohio  to  bring  her  young  sister  to  New 
York,  surprised  and  delighted  at  finding  how  the 

18 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  19 

awkward  girl  she  had  known  had  developed  since 
the  last  time  they  had  met,  Amy  now  took  Ethel 
about  to  get  her  " clothes  fit  to  be  seen  in."  And 
as  with  intent  little  glances  she  kept  studying 
"Ethel's  type"  in  order  to  set  off  her  charms,  the 
slightly  bored  expression,  the  look  of  disillusion 
ment  left  Amy's  pretty  countenance.  For  Ethel's 
freshness  had  given  to  Amy  new  zest  and  belief  in 
her  own  life,  in  its  purpose  and  importance.  To 
get  Ethel  clothes,  to  show  her  about,  to  find  her 
friends,  to  give  her  a  gay  winter  in  town  and  later 
to  make  a  good  match  for  her — these  aims  loomed 
large  in  Amy's  mind.  She  felt  her  own  youth  re 
turning,  and  she  prolonged  this  period.  She 
wanted  Ethel  all  to  herself.  She  even  shut  her 
husband  out. 

"You  can  rest  up  a  bit,"  she  told  him,  "for 
what's  coming  later  on."  And  Joe,  with  a  good- 
natured  groan  at  the  prospect  of  late  hours  ahead, 
made  the  most  of  the  rest  allowed  to  him. 

Each  morning  the  two  sisters  fared  forth  in  a 
taxi.  And  Amy  began  to  reveal  to  her  sister  the 
dazzling  world  of  shops  in  New  York :  shops  large 
and  small,  American,  French  and  English,  shops 
for  gowns  and  hats  and  shoes,  and  furs  and  gloves 
and  corsets.  At  numberless  counters  they  studied 
and  counselled,  and  lunching  at  Sherry's  they 
shopped  on.  And  the  shimmer  and  sheen  of 


20  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

pretty  things  made  life  a  glamourous  mirage,  in 
which  Ethel  could  feel  herself  rapidly  becoming  a 
New  Yorker,  gaining  assurance  day  by  day,  feel 
ing  "her  type"  emerge  in  the  glass  where  she 
studied  herself  with  impatient  delight. 

There  were  little  reminders  now  and  then  of 
what  she  had  left  behind  her.  One  day  in  a  de 
partment  store,  as  they  stood  before  a  counter 
looking  at  silk  stockings,  all  at  once  to  EthePs 
ears  came  the  deep  tones  of  an  organ,  and  turning 
with  a  low  cry  of  surprise  she  looked  over  the 
bustling  throngs  of  women  to  an  organ  loft  above, 
where  a  girl  was  singing  a  solo  in  a  high  sweet 
soprano  voice.  In  a  flash  to  EthePs  mind  there 
came  a  vivid  picture  of  the  old  yellow  church  at 
home.  And  with  a  queer  expression  looking  about 
her  at  the  crowds,  she  exclaimed,  "How  funny!" 

She  was  again  reminded  of  church  when  one 
afternoon  in  a  large  darkened  chamber  she  sat 
with  scores  of  women  whose  eyes  were  fixed  as 
though  in  devotion  upon  a  softly  lighted  stage 
where  "models"  kept  appearing.  What  lovely 
figures  some  of  them  had.  Others  rather  took  her 
breath,  and  gave  her  the  feeling  she  'd  had  before 
in  her  sister's  bedroom.  But  then  as  her  eye  was 
caught  again  by  the  rapt  faces  all  about,  she 
chuckled  to  herself  and  thought,  "There  ought  to 
be  candles  and  incense  here!" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  21 

She  was  appalled  at  the  prices.  And  as  the 
exciting  days  wore  on,  uneasily  in  her  room  at 
night  she  would  sit  down  with  pencil  and  paper 
and  ask,  "How  much  did  I  spend  today  1"  Her 
father  had  left  her  nothing  but  the  shabby  old 
frame  house.  This  she  had  sold  to  a  friend  of 
his,  and  the  small  fund  thus  secured  she  had  re 
solved  to  husband. 

"Oh,  Ethel,  go  slow,  you  little  fool.  This  is 
every  penny  you  have  in  the  world." 

But  the  adorable  things  she  saw,  and  the  grow 
ing  hunger  she  felt  as  she  began  to  notice  with  a 
more  discerning  eye  the  women  in  shops  and  on 
the  streets — just  why  they  were  so  dashing  and 
how  they  got  this  and  that  effect — all  swept  aside 
her  caution,  the  easier  because  of  the  fact  that 
everything  she  bought  was  charged. 

One  evening  in  a  large  cafe  she  sat  watching 
Amy  who  was  dancing  with  her  husband.  It  was 
at  the  time  when  the  new  style  dances  were  just 
coming  into  vogue.  In  Ohio  they  had  been  only 
a  myth.  But  Amy  was  a  beautiful  dancer;  and 
watching  her  now,  Ethel  reflected,  "She  expects 
me  to  be  like  that.  If  I'm  not,  she'll  be  disap 
pointed,  ashamed.  And  why  shouldn't  I  be? 
What  do  you  ever  get  in  this  world  if  you're  al 
ways  saving  every  cent?  You  miss  your  chance 
and  then  it's  too  late.  I'll  be  meeting  her  friends 


22  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

in  a  few  weeks  more.    I  've  simply  got  to  hurry ! ' ' 

And  with  Amy's  dancing  teacher  she  arranged 
for  lessons — at  a  price  that  made  her  gasp.  But 
the  lessons  were  a  decided  success. 

"You've  a  wonderful  figure  for  dancing, "  the 
teacher  said  confidingly,  "and  a  sense  for  rhythm 
that  most  of  these  women  haven't  any  idea  of." 
He  smiled  down  at  her  and  she  fairly  beamed. 

"Oh,  how  nice!"  sighed  Ethel.  Something  in 
the  little  look  which  flashed  between  them  gave  her 
a  thrill  of  assurance.  And  this  feeling  came  again 
and  again,  in  the  shops  and  while  she  was  seated 
at  luncheon  in  some  crowded  restaurant,  or  on  the 
streets  or  back  at  home,  where  even  Joe  was  be 
ginning  to  show  his  admiring  surprise. 

"You're  making  a  fine  little  job  of  it,"  she 
heard  him  say  to  Amy  one  night. 

She  caught  other  remarks  and  glances  from 
strangers,  men  and  women.  And  Ethel  now  be 
gan  to  feel  the  whole  vast  bustling  ardent  town 
centred  on  what  in  her  high-school  club,  as  they 
read  Bernard  Shaw,  they  had  quite  frankly  and 
solemnly  spoken  of  as  "Sex."  All  the  work  and 
the  business,  the  scheming  and  planning  and  rush 
for  money,  were  focussed  on  this.  And  for  this 
she  was  attracting  those  swift  admiring  glances. 
What  she  would  be,  what  she  wanted  to  be,  what 
she  now  ardently  longed  to  become,  grew  clearer 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  23 

to  her  day  by  day.  For  the  picture  was  there  be 
fore  her  eyes.  Each  day  it  grew  more  familiar, 
as  at  home  in  Amy 's  room  she  watched  her  beauti 
ful  sister,  a  stranger  no  longer  to  her  now,  seated 
at  her  dressing  table  good-humouredly  chatting, 
and  meanwhile  revealing  by  numberless  deft  little 
things  she  was  doing  the  secrets  of  clothes  and  of 
figure,  and  of  cheeks  and  lips  and  eyes,  with  subtle 
hints  behind  it  all  of  the  ancient  magic  art  of  Pan. 
She  felt  Amy  ceaselessly  bringing  her  out.  This 
gave  her  thrills  of  excitement.  And  looking  at 
her  sister  she  asked, 

1  'Shall  I  ever  be  like  that V9 

And  they  kept  talking,  talking.  And  through  it 
all  the  same  feeling  was  there,  the  sense  of  this 
driving  force  of  the  town. 

With  the  sturdy  independence  which  was  so 
deep  a  part  of  her,  Ethel  strove  to  hold  up  her 
end  of  these  intent  conversations  and  show  that 
she  had  views  of  her  own.  She  was  no  old-fash 
ioned  country  girl,  but  modern,  something  differ 
ent  !  They  had  discussed  things  in  her  club  which 
would  have  shocked  their  mothers,  discussed  them 
long  and  seriously.  They  had  spoken  of  marriage 
and  divorce,  of  love  and  having  children,  and  then 
had  gone  eagerly  on  to  suffrage,  jobs  and  "mental 
science,"  art,  music  and  the  rest  of  life.  She  had 
gathered  there  an  image  of  New  York  as  a  glitter- 


24  HIS   SECOND  WIFE 

ing  region  of  strong  clever  men  and  fascinating 
women,  who  not  only  loved  to  dance  but  held  the 
most  brilliant  discussions  at  dinners  livened  by 
witty  remarks — a  place  of  vistas  opening  into  a 
world  of  great  ideas.  And  now  with  her  older 
sister,  she  questioned  her  about  it  all,  the  art  and 
all  the  "movements,"  the  "salons"  and  the  clever 
talk.  She  asked, 

"Do  you  know  any  suffragists?  Do  you  know 
any  men  who  write  plays  or  novels,  or  any  musi 
cians  or  painters — or  actresses  ? ' '  And  again  and 
again  by  an  air  of  assurance  Ethel  tried  to  hide 
her  dismay,  as  her  sister  subtly  made  all  this 
seem  like  a  school-girl's  fancies. 

"Yes,"  Amy  would  say  good-humouredly, 
"there  are  such  people,  I  suppose — plenty  of 
them,  all  over  town.  And  they  talk  and  talk  and 
hold  meetings,  and  they  go  to  high-brow  plays — 
and  some  women  even  work.  But  it  doesn't  sound 
very  thrilling,  does  it?  I  don't  know.  They 
never  seem  to  me  quite  real. ' ' 

And  then  Amy  would  go  on  to  hint  what  did 
seem  real  to  her  in  life.  And  again  that  picture 
of  the  town,  all  centred  on  what  emerged  from  the 
shops  and  poured  into  the  cafes  to  dance,  was 
painted  for  her  sister. 

But  behind  her  smiling  manner  of  one  with  an 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  25 

intimate  knowledge  of  life,  Amy  would  glance  at 
the  girl  by  her  side  in  a  curious,  rather  anxious 
way.  For  vaguely  she  knew  that  years  ago  when 
she  herself  had  come  to  New  York,  she  too  had  had 
dreams  and  imaginings  of  what  her  young  sister 
called  "the  real  thing."  And  she  knew  that  these 
had  dropped  away — at  first  in  the  struggle,  which 
for  her  had  been  so  intense  and  narrowing,  to  gain 
a  foothold  in  the  town ;  then  through  rebuffs  from 
the  clever  friends  of  Joe  Lanier  when  she  married 
him;  and  later  through  a  feeling  of  lazy  ac 
ceptance  of  her  lot.  But  Ethel's  talk  and  Ethel's 
eyes  recalled  what  had  been  left  behind.  And 
Amy  thought  of  her  present  friends,  and  again 
with  a  little  uneasy  pang  she  put  off  their  meet 
ing  with  Ethel.  For  they  did  not  seem  good  to 
her  then,  and  the  picture  she  found  herself  paint 
ing  of  their  lives  and  her  own  appeared  a  bit  flat 
and  trivial  in  the  light  of  Ethel's  eagerness. 
They  dressed  and  went  shopping,  they  went  to  tea 
dances,  they  dined  in  cafes  or  in  their  homes, 
rushed  off  in  taxis  to  musical  plays,  and  had  sup 
per  and  danced.  They  loved  and  were  loved,  they 
"played  the  game." 

"My  dear,"  she  said  decisively,  "it's  not  what 
you  say  that  interests  men ;  it 's  how  you  look  and 
what  you  have  on." 


26  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

But  despite  her  air  of  assurance  and  her  own 
liking  of  her  life,  she  felt  the  picture  growing  flat, 
and  so  she  added  quietly, 

1 1  Oh,  my  friends  aren  't  all  I  'd  like.  They  never 
are,  if  you  've  anything  in  you.  If  you  really  want 
to  be  somebody — "  and  here  her  whole  expression 
changed  to  one  of  resolute  faith  in  herself — "you 
need  just  one  thing,  money.  And  you  can't  do 
anything  about  that,  you  have  to  wait  for  your 
husband.  Joe's  a  dear,  of  course,  and  he's  work 
ing  hard.  And  he's  getting  it,  too,  he's  getting 
it!"  A  gleam  of  hunger  almost  fierce  came  into 
her  clear  violet  eyes.  l  i  I  want  a  larger  apartment 
— I've  picked  out  the  very  one.  And  I  want  a 
car,  a  limousine.  I  know  just  how  I'll  paint  it — 
a  mauve  body  with  white  wheels.  And  I  want  a 
house  on  Long  Island.  I've  picked  out  the  very 
spot — just  next  to  Fanny  Carr's  new  place." 

As  her  sister  spoke  of  these  ideals,  again  Ethel 
had  that  feeling  of  church,  but  only  for  a  moment. 

"Who's  Fanny  Carr?"  she  asked  alertly. 

Amy  was  slowly  combing  her  hair,  and  she 
smiled  with  kindly  tolerance,  for  her  little  con 
fession  had  brought  back  her  faith  in  herself  and 
her  future. 

"Fanny  \vas  a  writer  once — " 

"Oh,  really!" 

"Yes.     She  ran  a  department  on  one  of  the  pa- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  27 

pers."  It  had  been  the  dress  pattern  page,  but 
Amy  did  not  mention  that.  Instead  she  yawned 
complacently.  "Oh,  she  dropped  it  quick  enough 
— she  thought  it  rather  tiresome.  She's  one  of 
the  cleverest  women  I  know.  She'd  have  got  a 
long  way  up  in  the  world,  if  it  weren't  for  her 
second  husband — " 

"Her  second?" 

"Yes.  The  first  one  didn't  do  very  well.  She 
told  me  once,  'If  you  want  to  get  on,  change  your 
name  at  least  once  in  every  three  years.'  Her 
second,  as  it  happened,  was  no  better  than  the  first. 
But  she  was  clever  enough  by  then  to  get  an  able 
lawyer;  and  when  it  came  to  the  divorce,  Fanny 
succeeded  in  keeping  the  house,  the  one  out  on 
Long  Island." 

"Oh,"  said  Ethel  tensely.  Her  sister  shot  a 
look  at  her. 

"I  don't  care  especially  for  Fanny's  ideas  about 
husbands, ' '  she  said.  ' '  But  at  least  she  has  a  love 
of  a  home. ' '  And  Amy  went  on  to  explain  to  her 
sister  the. value  and  importance  of  being  able  to 
give  "week  ends."  Again  the  gleam  came  into 
her  eyes. 

"It's  money,  my  dear,  it's  money.  They  are 
the  same  women  in  Newport  exactly — just  like  all 
the  rest  of  us — only  they  are  richer.  That's  all 
— but  it  is  everything.  Put  me  in  a  big  house  out 


28  HIS   SECOND  WIFE 

there,  and  my  friends  wouldn't  know  me  in  a  few 
years." 

A  cloud  came  on  her  face  as  she  looked  in  the 
glass. 

' '  But  that 's  just  the  trouble.  A  few  years  more 
and  I'll  be  too  late.  You've  got  to  get  there  while 
you're  young.  And  there's  so  little  time.  You 
lose  your  looks.  It 's  all  very  well  for  some  women 
to  talk  about  ideas  and  things — and  travel  and — 
and  children.  I  did,  too,  I  talked  a  lot — oh,  how 
I  wanted  everything!  But  one  has  to  narrow 
down.  Thank  heaven,  Ethel,  you've  years  ahead. 
I've  only  got  a  few  more  left — I'm  already  thirty- 
one.  And  my  type  ages  fast  in  this  town,  if  you 
do  the  things  you're  expected  to  do.  But  you — 
oh,  Ethel,  I  want  you  to  marry  well !  Not  a  mil 
lionaire — that's  rather  hard,  and  besides  he'd 
probably  be  too  fat — but  the  kind  who  will  be  a, 
millionaire,  who  has  it  written  all  over  his  face 
and  makes  you  feel  it  in  his  voice!  Don't  sell 
yourself  too  cheap,  my  dear!  Don't  go  running 
about  with  men  who'll  keep  you  poor  for  the  rest 
of  your  days.  They  talk  so  well — some  of  them 
do;  and  it  sounds  so  fine — ideas  and  books  and 
pictures  and — I  knew  one  who  was  an  architect. 
And  it 's  all  very  well  for  later  on,  but  what  you  've 
got  to  do  right  at  the  start — while  you  have  the 
looks  and  youth — is  to  find  the  man  who  can  give 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  29 

you  a  house  where  all  those  other  people  will  be 
tumbling  to  get  in — because  you'll  have  the  money 
— you'll  be  able  to  entertain — and  give  them  what 
they  really  want — in  spite  of  all  their  talking." 

Once  more,  with  a  weary  sigh,  she  dropped  the 
religious  intensity,  and  smiled  as  she  wistfully 
added, 

" That's  where  some  man  can  put  you.  They 
do,  you  know,  they  do  it.  Some  man  does  it  every 
day.  You  can  see  his  name  in  the  papers.  Doz 
ens  of  wives  get  to  Newport  each  year.  And  what 
do  they  do  it  on  ?  Money ! 

*  '  That 's  romance  enough  for  me,  my  dear.  And 
if  you  want  work  and  a  career,  the  most  fascinat 
ing  kind  I  know  is  to  study  the  man  you've  mar 
ried — find  what's  holding  him  back  and  take  it 
away — what's  pushing  him  on  and  help  it  grow! 
YouVe  got  to  narrow,  narrow  down!  You  may 
want  a  lot  of  children.  They're  loves,  of  course, 
to  have  around.  But  you  run  a  big  risk  in  that. 
I  could  give  you  so  many  cases — mothers  who  have 
just  dropped  out.  If  you  want  to  really  get  on 
in  this  town,  you've  got  to  stick  to  your  husband 
and  make  your  husband  stick  to  you !  There  are 
things  about  that  you  will  learn  soon  enough.  It 
comes  so  naturally,  once  you  are  in  it — married, 
I  mean.  And  that 's  your  hold. 

"And  if  you  love  him  as  I  love  Joe,"  she  added 


30  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

almost  in  a  whisper,  "you  find  it  so  easy  that  often 
you  forget  what  it  is  you're  trying  to  do,  what 
you're  really  doing  it  for.  You're  just  happy  and 
you  shut  your  eyes.  But  then  you  wake  up  and 
use  it  all — everything — to  drive  him  on.  You  can 
do  that  while  you  are  still  young  and  have  what 
he  wants — the  looks,  I  mean — and  can  make  him 
see  that  any  number  of  other  men  would  be  glad 
to  step  into  his  shoes.  But  you  give  them  only 
just  enough  to  keep  your  husband  from  feeling  too 
safe.  You  hold  them  off,  you  make  him  feel  that 
he's  everything  to  you  if  he'll  work  and  give  you 
what  you  ought  to  have!  And  unless  you're  a 
fool  you  don't  listen  to  this  talk  of  women's  rights 
and  women  doing  the  work  of  men.  You  keep  on 
your  own  ground  and  play  the  game.  And  you 
keep  making  him  get  what  you  need — before  it's 
too  late!"  All  at  once  she  gave  a  sharp  little 
laugh.  "It's  a  kind  of  a  race,  you  see,"  she 
said. 

The  night  after  this  talk,  Ethel  lay  in  her  bed, 
and  tried  to  remember  and  think  it  out.  How  new 
and  queer  and  puzzling.  So  many  vistas  she  had 
dreamed  of  had  been  closed  on  every  hand. 

"What's  the  matter  with  me?' 

The  matter  was  that  her  old  ideals  and  stand 
ards  were  being  torn  up  by  the  roots,  roots  that 
went  deep  down  into  the  soil  of  life  in  the  town 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  .    31 

in  Ohio.  But  Ethel  did  not  think  of  that.  She 
scowled  and  sighed. 

' ' Well,  this  is  real!  I  was  dreaming!  And 
after  all,  this  is  much  the  same,  but  different  in 
the  way  you  get  it.  This  is  New  York.  One  thing 
is  sure,"  she  added.  "Amy  needs  every  dollar 
Joe  can  make — and  she  must  not  have  me  on  her 
hands.  I've  got  to  find  what  I  really  want — a  job 
or  a  man — and  be  quick  about  it ! ' 9 

It  threw  a  tinge  of  uneasiness  into  those  breath 
less  shopping  tours.  And  it  changed  her  attitude 
toward  Joe.  He  had  not  counted  for  much  at  first ; 
he  had  been  a  mere  man  of  business ;  and  business 
men  had  had  little  place  in  her  dreams  of  friends 
in  the  city.  But  watching  him  now  she  changed 
her  mind. 

Joe  Lanier  was  what  is  called  "a  speculative 
builder."  He  was  an  architect,  building  contrac 
tor  and  real  estate  gambler,  all  in  one.  He  put  up 
apartment  buildings  "on  spec,"  buildings  of  the 
cheaper  sort,  most  of  them  up  in  the  Bronx,  and 
sold  them  at  a  profit — or  a  loss,  as  the  case  might 
be.  He  dealt  in  the  rapidly  shifting  values  of 
neighbourhoods  in  the  changing  town.  "The 
gamble  in  it  is  the  fun,"  he  remarked  to  Ethel  one 
evening.  Joe  was  just  the  kind  of  a  man,  as  Amy 
had  told  her  sister,  to  make  a  big  sudden  success 
of  his  work.  Unfortunately  he  was  tied  to  a  part- 


32  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

ner,  Nourse  by  name,  who  held  him  back.  This 
man  Amy  keenly  disliked.  She  said  that  Nourse 
was  a  perfect  grind,  a  heavy  tiresome  creature 
who  thought  business  was  everything  in  the  world. 

"Sometimes  I  really  believe  he  forgets  it's  for 
making  money, "  Amy  declared.  "He's  as  anx 
ious  about  it  as  an  old  hen,  and  he  wants  it  steady 
as  a  cow.  He  detests  me,  as  I  do  him.  He  has 
stopped  coming  here,  thank  heaven.  And  the  time 
is  not  so  far  away  when  I'll  make  Joe  see  that  he's 
got  to  lose  his  partner." 

Joe's  image  gained  steadily  in  importance  to 
Ethel's  awakening  eyes.  Of  his  force  as  a  man, 
all  that  she  saw  made  her  more  and  more  certain 
that  Amy  was  right.  Joe  was  the  kind  who  was 
bound  to  succeed.  He  not  only  worked  hard,  his 
work  was  a  passion.  At  night  and  on  Sunday 
mornings  he  could  sit  for  hours  absorbed  in  the 
tiresome  pages  of  real  estate  news  in  his  paper. 
He  went  out  for  strolls  in  the  evenings ;  one  night 
he  asked  Ethel  to  come  along;  and  his  talk  to  her 
about  buildings,  the  growth  of  the  city  by  leaps  and 
bounds,  now  in  this  direction,  now  in  that,  caught 
her  imagination  at  once.  Joe  felt  the  town  as  * 
living  thing,  as  she  had  felt  it  that  first  night 
Different?  Yes,  this  was  business.  But  eve» 
business,  to  her  surprise,  as  Joe  saw  and  felt  it, 
had  a  strange  thrilling  romance  of  its  own. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  33 

And  she  soon  noticed  something  else  that  drew 
her  to  Joe.  Almost  every  evening  he  would  sit 
down  at  his  piano  and  start  playing  idly.  As  a 
rule  he  played  dance  music,  popular  songs  from 
Broadway.  But  sometimes  leaning  back  he  would 
drift  into  other  music.  And  though  his  hand 
would  bungle  and  only  sketch  it,  so  to  speak— in 
his  black  eyes,  scowling  slightly  over  the  smoke 
of  his  cigar,  would  come  a  look  which  Ethel  liked. 
But  vaguely  she  felt  that  Amy  did  not,  that  it  even 
made  her  uneasy.  For  almost  invariably  at  such 
times,  Amy  would  come  behind  him,  her  plump 
softly  rounded  arm  would  find  its  way  down  over 
his  shoulder — and  little  by  little  the  music  would 
change  and  would  come  back  to  Broadway. 

When  Joe  heard  one  evening  that  Ethel  was 
"mad  to  learn  to  sing,"  he  took  her  by  the  arm  at 
once  and  marched  her  over  to  the  piano.  And 
they  had  quite  a  session  together — till  Amy  sug 
gested  going  out  to  a  new  cabaret  she  had  heard 
of  that  day.  Her  voice  sounded  hurt  and  strained. 
And  Ethel  from  that  night  on  dropped  all  mention 
of  singing. 

Her  curiosity  deepened  toward  this  city  love 
affair,  this  husband  and  wife  who  apparently  had 
left  so  many  things  out  of  their  lives,  things  vital 
in  the  Ohio  town.  The  sober  wee  girl  in  the  nurs 
ery  kept  just  as  quiet  as  before.  Often  Ethel 


34  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

opened  that  door  and  went  in  and  tried  to  make 
friends  with  its  grave  shy  little  inmate  and  the 
hostile  nurse.  And  returning  to  her  room  she 
would  frown  and  wonder  for  a  time.  But  the 
pretty  things  piling  in  from  the  shops,  and  the 
gay  anticipations,  soon  crowded  such  questioning 
out  of  her  mind.  Swiftly  this  household  was 
growing  more  real,  the  rooms  familiar,  intimate ; 
the  day's  routine  with  its  small  events  were  be 
coming  parts  of  her  life.  Her  own  room  was  fa 
miliar  now,  for  by  many  touches  she'd  made  it 
her  own.  And  the  dining-room  and  the  living 
room,  where  she  grew  acquainted  with  Joe,  these 
too  assumed  an  intimate  air.  Most  of  all,  her 
sister's  room  grew  more  and  more  vivid  in  her 
thoughts,  though  this  was  still  far  from  familiar, 
It  held  too  much,  it  meant  too  much. 

* '  Shall  I  ever  live  with  a  man  like  that  1 ' ' 
The  way  they  looked  at  each  other  at  times! 
The  way  they  seemed  keeping  watch  on  each  other. 
If  Joe  were  out  very  late  at  night,  Amy  would  al 
most  invariably  grow  uneasy  and  absentminded, 
and  there  would  be  a  challenging  note  in  the  way 
she  greeted  him  on  his  return.  On  one  such  occa 
sion  Ethel  was  in  Amy's  room.  She  went  out 
when  Joe  came  in ;  but  a  queer  little  gasping  sigh 
behind  gave  her  a  start  and  a  swift  thrill,  for  al 
though  she  did  not  turn  around  she  knew  they  were 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  35 

in  each  other's  arms.  And  again,  late  one  after 
noon  when  the  sisters  came  home  and  found  Joe 
at  work  with  a  tired  anxious  look  on  his  face,  his 
wife  came  up  behind  him.  And  the  picture  of  her 
small  gloved  hand  upon  Joe's  heavy  shoulder  re 
mained  in  Ethel's  memory.  It  seemed  so  soft  and 
yet  so  strong. 

"She  can  do  anything  with  him  she  likes. 
When  I  marry  somebody  how  will  it  be!" 

Upon  the  living-room  mantel  was  a  photograph 
of  Amy.  And  on  the  smooth  and  pretty  face  with 
the  lips  slightly  parting,  and  in  the  smiling  violet 
eyes,  there  was  the  expression  of  something  which 
Ethel  did  not  quite  name  to  herself — for  she  had 
forgotten  the  night  long  ago  in  her  high-school  club 
when  they  had  sturdily  tackled  the  word  "sensual" 
and  what  it  meant.  But  the  picture  grew  familiar 
and  real,  filled  in  by  the  living  presence  here  of 
this  woman  who  so  carefully  tended  her  beautiful 
body,  her  glossy  hair,  her  cheeks  and  lips;  this 
sister  with  so  many  moods,  now  intent  and  watch 
ful,  now  good-humoured,  indolent,  now  expectant, 
hungry,  now  smilingly  content  and  gay. 

And  as  the  picture  grew  more  real,  warm  and 
close  and  thrilling,  it  symbolized  for  Ethel  that 
mysterious  force  which  she  could  feel  on  every 
side,  driving  the  throngs  of  humanity — in  this  city 
where  so  many  things  she  had  once  deemed  im- 


36  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

port  ant  were  fading  rapidly  away.  That  hungry 
hope  of  a  singer's  career,  that  craving  for  work 
and  self-education,  trips  to  Paris,  London,  Rome, 
books,  art  and  clever  people,  "salons,"  brilliant 
discussions  of  life ;  and  deeper  still,  those  mysteri 
ous  dreams  about  having  children  and  making  a 
home — all  began  to  drop  behind,  so  quietly  and 
easily  that  she  barely  noticed  the  change. 

For  this  was  happening  in  a  few  weeks,  in  the 
first  whirl  and  excitement  of  those  dazzling  streets 
and  shops,  those  models,  gowns,  hats,  gloves  and 
shoes.  "It's  not  what  you  say  that  interests  men 
— it's  how  you  look  and  what  you  have  on."  The 
image  of  her  sister  grew  vivid  in  Ethel's  eager 
mind.  And  with  it  came  the  question,  now  ardent 
though  still  a  little  confused, 

"Shall  I  ever  be  like  that?" 


CHAPTER  IV 

ETHEL  had  been  about  four  weeks  in  town, 
and  now  she  was  to  meet  Amy's  friends. 
Amy  was  giving  a  dinner  the  next  evening  in  her 
honour ;  and  to  let  the  cook  and  the  waitress  have 
a  rest  on  the  preceding  night,  Joe  took  Amy  and 
Ethel  out  to  dine  in  a  cafe.  His  business  had  gone 
well  that  week  and  Joe  was  a  genial  husband. 
They  had  a  sea-food  supper  and  later  he  took 
them  to  a  play.  When  they  came  home,  Ethel 
went  to  her  room,  for  she  felt  very  tired.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  was  asleep. 

She  was  awakened  by  Joe,  half  dressed. 

"Amy  is  sick!"  he  said  sharply.  "Go  in  and 
help  her,  will  you?  I'll  try  to  get  a  doctor!" 

On  Amy's  bed,  a  little  later,  Ethel  saw  a  face  so 
changed  from  the  one  of  a  few  hours  before,  that 
she  felt  her  heart  jump  into  her  throat.  Amy's 
face  was  ugly  and  queer,  distorted  by  frequent 
spasms  of  pain.  But  worse  was  the  terror  in  her 
eyes. 

* '  Ethel,  I  think  I  'm  dying ! ' '  she  cried.  < '  Some 
thing  I  ate — it  poisoned  me ! ' '  There  was  a  vio 
lent  catch  in  her  breath. 

37 


38  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

' '  Amy !  Why,  you  poor  little  darling ! ' '  Ethel 
held  her  sister  tight,  asked  quick  anxious  questions 
and  did  things  to  relieve  her,  but  with  little  or  no 
success.  It  seemed  hours  till  Joe  came  back. 
With  him  was  a  doctor,  who  made  an  examination 
and  then  took  Joe  into  the  hall.  Ethel  followed 
anxiously.  She  heard  the  doctor  questioning  Joe, 
and  she  heard  him  say, 

"I'm  afraid  it's  ptomaine." 

"What  does  that  mean?"  Joe  fiercely  inquired. 
But  before  Ethel  could  hear  the  reply  she  was 
called  back  into  the  bedroom,  where  on  her  bed 
with  both  hands  clenched  Amy  was  saying, 

"I  can't  bear  this!  Make  him  give  me  some 
thing — quick ! ' ' 

The  rest  of  the  night  was  a  blur  and  a  haze,  of 
which  Joe  was  the  centre — Joe  half  crazed  and 
impatient,  making  impossible  demands. 

"You  can't  get  a  nurse  in  a  minute,  my  friend, 
at  five  A.M.,"  the  doctor  cried.  "I'm  doing  my 
best,  if  you  '11  give  me  a  chance ! ' ' 

The  fight  went  on.  The  nurse  arrived,  and  turn 
ing  to  Ethel  the  doctor  said,  ' '  Get  him  out  of  this. " 
And  she  took  Joe  into  the  living-room.  But  there 
with  a  sudden  curse  and  a  groan  he  began  to  walk 
the  floor. 

"This  doctor — what  do  we  know  of  him?  He 
was  all  I  could  find !  We  haven 't  been  to  a  doctor 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  39 

( 

in  years!  .  .  .  Ah — that's  it!'7  And  he  went  to 
the  telephone,  where  in  a  few  moments  she  heard 
him  saying  tensely,  "Bill,  old  man,  I'm  in  trou 
ble."  And  she  thought,  "It's  his  partner." 

"What  have  you  done?"  she  asked  him. 

"Got  Bill  Nourse  on  the  'phone.  He's  bring 
ing  another  doctor. ' ' 

"But  Joe!  You  should  have  asked  this  one 
first!" 

"Should  I?"  was  his  distracted  reply. 

The  second  physician  soon  arrived,  and  was  as 
surprised  and  annoyed  as  the  first  one  when  he 
found  how  he  had  been  summoned.  In  a  moment 
with  angry  apologies  he  was  backing  out  of  the 
door.  But  Joe  caught  his  arm. 

"You  two  and  your  etiquette  be  damned!  Go 
in  and  look  at  that  woman ! "  he  cried.  And  with 
a  glance  into  Joe's  eyes,  the  second  doctor  turned 
to  the  first,  muttered,  "Hold  this  man.  He's 
crazy" — and  went  into  the  bedroom. 

It  was  long  before  Ethel  forgot  the  look  that 
appeared  on  Joe's  face  when  the  second  physician 
came  out  and  said, 

"  I'm  sorry.    There 's  nothing  I  can  do. ' ' 

She  went  in  with  Joe  to  Amy.  And  her  sister 
looked  so  relieved,  the  lines  of  pain  all  smoothed 
away.  Heavily  drugged,  she  was  nearly  asleep. 
Her  hand  felt  for  Joe's  and  closed  on  it,  and  with 


40  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

a  little  nestling  movement  of  her  soft  lovely  body 
she  murmured  smiling, 

"Oh,  so  tired  and  sleepy  now." 

Again,  in  spite  of  her  grief  and  fright,  Ethel 
noticed  how  her  sister's  hand  closed  on  that  of  her 
husband.  In  the  months  and  years  that  followed, 
she  recalled  it  vividly  so  many  times. 

Joe  sat  there  long  after  Amy  was  dead. 

The  doctor  signed  to  Ethel  to  come  into  the 
living-room. 

"Are  you  to  be  in  charge?"  he  asked.  She 
looked  at  him  and  shivered.  She  felt  a  pang  of 
such  loneliness  as  she  had  never  known  before. 

"I  know  nobody — nothing — I  don't  know  how 
you  arrange,"  she  said.  "I've  only  been  a  month 
in  town. ' ' 

The  doctor  gave  her  a  curious  look  of  pity  and 
uneasiness.  It  was  as  though  he  had  told  her, 
"I'm  sorry,  but  don't  count  on  me  for  help.  I'm 
busy.  This  is  New  York,  you  know."  He  said, 

"I'll  see  to  the  undertaker."  She  shivered 
again,  and  he  added,  "Don't  you  know  some  older 
woman  here?" 

This  reminded  her  of  the  dinner  which  Amy 
was  to  have  given  that  night.  A  lump  rose  in 
her  throat.  She  waited  a  moment  and  then  she 
said, 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  41 

"Yes,  I  know  of  several/' 

"That's  good.  You'd  better  send  for  them." 
And  soon  afterward  he  hurried  away. 

But  just  as  Ethel  was  rising  to  go  to  the  tele 
phone,  there  was  a  ring  at  the  door.  She  opened 
it,  and  a  tall  man,  rather  stooped,  with  iron  grey 
hair  and  moustache,  a  lean  but  rather  heavy  face 
and  deep-set  impassive  eyes,  came  in  and  said, 

"I'm  Joe's  partner — Nourse,  you  know.  How 
is  it  going?  Better!" 

"She's  dead." 

"God!"  With  that  low  exclamation,  she 
thought  she  saw  a  gleam  of  shock  but  then  of  tri 
umph  come  in  his  eyes.  He  went  into  Joe's  room, 
and  closed  the  door;  and  with  a  mingling  of  re 
lief  and  of  sharp  hostility  she  felt  at  once  how 
she  was  shut  out.  Who  was  she  but  a  stranger 
now?  She  thought  of  Amy,  and  with  a  quick  cry 
Ethel  began  to  walk  up  and  down  in  a  scared 
hunted  fashion.  She  stopped  with  a  sudden  reso 
lute  clenching  of  her  teeth,  and  said,  "Now  I've 
got  to  do  something!  If  I  don't,  I'll  go  right  out 
of  my  mind ! ' '  But  what  ?  She  stared  about  her, 
then  went  to  the  windows  and  threw  back  the  cur 
tains.  It  was  well  along  toward  noon.  Daylight 
flooded  into  the  room,  with  one  yellow  path  of  light 
which  came  down  from  the  distant  sun. 

"I'll  go  out  and  get  her  some  flowers." 


42  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

When  she  came  back  a  half  hour  later,  Ethel 
still  had  that  resolute  look.  The  door  of  Joe's 
room  was  still  closed  and  she  saw  Nourse's  hat  in 
the  hall.  She  turned  and  went  to  the  telephone, 
stopped  and  frowned. 

"Yes,  that's  the  next  thing." 

She  called  up  Amy's  friend  Fanny  Carr.  But 
at  the  sound  of  the  woman's  voice  which  came 
back  over  the  wire,  Ethel  gave  a  start  of  dismay. 
For  it  had  a  jarring  quality,  and  although  it  was 
prompt  in  its  exclamations  of  shocked  surprise 
and  sympathy  and  proffers  of  help — the  words, 
"You  poor  child,  I'll  come  over  at  once!" — made 
Ethel  inwardly  beseech  her,  "Oh,  no,  no!  Please 
stay  away!"  Aloud  she  said,  "Thank  you,"  put 
up  the  receiver  and  stood  staring  at  the  wall. 
Was  this  Amy's  best  friend! 

"I  want  some  one  /  ~know!"  She  thought  of 
Susette.  She  went  at  once  to  the  nursery,  kissed 
the  wee  girl  and  sat  down  on  the  floor.  And  as 
they  built  a  house  of  blocks,  Ethel  could  feel  her 
self  softening,  the  strained  tight  sensation  going. 
Suddenly  in  her  hot  dry  eyes  she  felt  in  a  moment 
the  tears  would  come. 

"What's  to  become  of  me  and  this  child?" 

She  turned  with  a  start  and  met  the  unfriendly 
eyes  of  the  nurse.  They  had  a  jealous  light  in 
them. 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  43 

" You'll  stay  here,  of  course, "  said  Ethel. 
"  Surely  you  are  not  thinking  of  going — " 

"No.    Are  your' 

A  little  cold  sensation  struck  into  her  spine  at 
the  tone  of  that  question. 

"I  haven't  decided  yet  on  my  plans.  Hadn't 
you  better  take  Susette  out  to  the  Park  1 ' ' 

6 ' All  right." 

"And  keep  her  there  as  much  as  you  can — till 
it's  over." 

"All  right,"  said  the  nurse  again. 

Ethel  went  out  of  the  room.  Were  there  only 
strangers  here? 

Just  after  that  Fanny  Carr  arrived,  and  Ethel 
had  a  feeling  at  once  of  a  shrewd  strong  per 
sonality.  A  woman  of  about  medium  height,  still 
young  but  rather  over-developed,  artificial  and 
overdressed,  with  a  full  bust  and  thick  red  lips 
and  lustrous  eyes  of  greenish  grey — her  beauty 
was  of  the  obtrusive  type  that  is  made  to  catch  the 
eye  on  the  street  and  in  noisy  crowded  rooms. 
When  Fanny  kissed  her,  Ethel  shrank.  "I 
mustn't  do  that!"  she  exclaimed  to  herself.  But 
the  other  woman  had  noticed  it  and  shot  a  little 
look  at  her. 

"You  poor  girl.  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I 
feel,"  she  was  saying.  "It's  horrible.  Tell  me 
about  it." 


44  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

And  Ethel  in  a  lifeless  voice  recounted  the 
tragedy  of  the  night. 
1 'Where  V  Joel" 

"In  there,  with  his  partner." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Nourse.  He  would  be."  Mrs.  Carr 
threw  a  glance  of  dislike  at  the  door.  "And  you, 
my  dear — I  won't  ask  you  now  what  are  your 
plans.  Just  let  me  help  you.  What  can  I  do? 
There's  that  dinner  tonight,  to  begin  with.  Have 
you  let  the  people  know?" 

"  Not  yet— " 

"Have  you  a  list  of  the  ones  who  were  asked?" 

"I  think  there's  one  on  Amy's  desk." 

"Then  I '11  attend  to  it." 

Soon  Fanny  was  at  the  telephone.  Her  voice, 
hard  and  incisive,  kept  talking,  stopping,  talking 
again,  repeating  it  to  friend  after  friend,  and 
making  it  hard,  abrupt  and  real,  stripping  it  of  its 
mystery,  making  it  naked  and  commonplace,  like 
a  newspaper  item — Amy's  death.  And  Ethel  sat 
rigid,  listening. 

< '  Amy 's  best  friend !     Oh,  how  strange ! '  > 

Suddenly  she  remembered  things  Amy  had  said 
about  this  friend — admiring  things.  She  bit  her 
lips. 

' '  What  a  queer  time  for  hating  a  person.  But  I 
hate  you — oh,  I  hate  you!"  She  went  to  the 
window  and  frowned  at  the  street  and  slowly  again 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  45 

got  control  of  herself.  " What's  wrong  with  me? 
Why  am  I  so  dull!  I  ought  to  be  doing  some 
thing.  But  what  ? ' '  Again  came  the  voice  from 
the  telephone,  and  again  she  clenched  her  hands. 
L<How  did  you  make  Amy  take  you  for  a  friend? 
.  .  .  Oh,  what  difference  does  it  make  1 9 ' 

But  it  did  make  a  difference.  The  presence  of 
Fanny  got  on  her  nerves ;  and  when  a  little  later 
two  of  the  dinner  guests  arrived,  to  exclaim  and 
pity  and  offer  their  help,  she  faced  them  and 
thought, 

"You're  all  alike!  You're  all  just  hard  and 
over-dressed!  You're  cheap!  Oh,  please — please 
go  away!" 

The  two  visitors  seemed  glad  enough  to  find  she 
did  not  want  them  here,  that  she  was  not  going 
to  cling  to  them  and  make  this  abyss  she  was  facing 
a  region  they  must  face  by  her  side.  In  their  eyes 
again  she  caught  the  look  she  had  seen  on  the 
face  of  the  doctor.  "After  all,  this  is  not  my 
affair." 

The  two  women  left  her.  Fanny,  too,  soon 
went  out  on  an  errand.  And  no  other  woman 
came  to  her  that  day.  How  different  from  the 
Ohio  town.  Only  once  a  girl  came  from  the  dress 
maker 's. 

But  just  after  Fanny  had  gone  out,  Joe's  part 
ner  came  into  the  living-room.  In  the  last  few 


46  HIS  SECOND   WIFE 

hours  several  times  she  had  heard  his  voice  as  he 
talked  with  Joe.  Deep,  heavy  and  gruff,  it  had 
yet  revealed  a  tenderness  that  had  given  to  Ethel 
a  sudden  thrill — which  she  had  forgotten  the  next 
moment,  for  her  thoughts  kept  spinning  so.  But 
now  as  he  looked  down  at  her  she  saw  in  his  gaunt 
lean  face  a  reflection  of  that  tenderness ;  and  there 
was  a  pity  in  his  voice  which  set  her  lip  to  quiver 
ing. 

"The  sooner  we  have  this  over,"  he  said,  "the 
better  it  will  be  for  Joe." 

"Yes." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Yes." 

"At  four?" 

"All  right." 

"I'll  see  to  it." 

"Thank  you."    There  was  a  pause. 

"Is  there  any  special  cemetery!  You  have  any 
preference!"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know  any  in  New  York."  And  again 
there  was  a  silence. 

"You  haven't  been  here  long,"  he  said. 

"No." 

"You'll  be  going  back  now  to  your  home,  1 
suppose." 

"I  haven't  any." 

"Oh,"  he  said.     She  glanced  up  and  saw  a 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  47 

gleam  of  uneasiness  in  his  steady  tired  eyes.  She 
shrank  a  little. 

"You  have  no  relatives  living !"  he  asked. 

"None  that  I  care  about,"  she  replied.  She 
swallowed  sharply.  "They're  scattered — gone 
West.  We  lost  track  of  them. ' ' 

* '  Oh.  .  .  .  Then  do  you  intend  to  stay  here  ? ' ' 

"For  awhile — if  Joe  wants  me." 

"I'll  take  care  of  Joe."  Though  the  voice  was 
low,  it  had  an  anxious  jealous  note  which  made  her 
shiver  slightly. 

"There's  the  child,"  she  reminded  him  sharply. 

"Why  not  take  it  away!"  he  asked.  "Joe 
never  cared  for  it,  did  he?  Do  you  think  it  has 
been  happy  here!" 

And  at  that  she  could  have  struck  him.  At 
her  glare  he  turned  away. 

"Forgive  me.  Of  course  I — should  not  have 
said  that."  A  pause.  "Nor  talked  of  your 
plans.  I'm  not  myself.  Sorry  for  Joe.  Forgive 
me. ' 9  He  turned  away  from  her,  frowning.  "  I  '11 
see  to  everything,"  he  said,  and  she  heard  him 
leave  the  apartment. 

And  all  the  rest  of  the  day  and  the  night  and 
through  the  morning  which  followed,  no  one  else 
came  but  professional  men,  and  Mrs.  Carr.  She 
came  and  went;  and  her  voice  grew  familiar — 
hard,  intrusive,  naked.  And  the  thought  kept 


48  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

rising  in  Ethel's  mind,  like  a  flash  of  revelation 
in  all  the  storm  and  blackness : 
6 '  This  kind  of  a  woman  was  Amy 's  best  friend ! ' ' 

The  funeral  was  soon  over,  and  of  its  ugly  de 
tails  only  a  few  remained  in  her  mind.  She  had 
a  glimpse  of  Amy's  face  down  in  the  handsome 
coffin,  and  at  the  sight  she  turned  away  with  a 
swift  pang  of  self-reproach.  "I  shouldn't  have 
let  Fanny  do  that!"  Fanny  had  dressed  her 
sister. 

She  remembered  the  low  respectful  voice  of 
the  building  superintendent :  ' '  There 's  an  after 
noon  tea  on  the  floor  below,  so  the  casket  and 
the  funeral  guests  had  better  go  down  by  the 
freight  elevator." 

She  gave  a  strained  little  laugh  at  that  and 
asked,  "I  wonder  when  I'll  cry!" 

The  preacher,  a  tall  kindly  young  man,  came  in 
and  seemed  about  to  speak;  but  after  a  look  at 
her  face  he  stopped.  He  had  come  from  a  church 
two  blocks  away.  Joe  and  Amy  had  never  been 
to  his  church,  and  it  was  Nourse  who  had  brought 
him  here.  Nourse  had  learned  of  him  from  the 
undertaker. 

Several  boxes  of  flowers  came. 

Later  from  a  milliner's  shop  two  pretty  autumn 
hats  arrived. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  49 

The  guests  began  arriving — silent,  awkward 
strangers — ten  or  twelve. 

She  heard  the  nurse  come  in  with  Susette  and 
take  her  back  to  the  nursery. 

There  was  no  music.    Not  a  sound. 

At  last  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  minister's 
low  voice.  Thank  heaven  that  was  kindly.  He 
was  brief,  and  yet  too  long;  for  from  the  apart 
ment  one  flight  below,  before  he  had  finished,  the 
festive  throb  of  a  little  orchestra  was  heard. 

He  prayed  just  a  minute  or  two. 

Then  they  followed  the  coffin  out  into  the  hall 
and  back  and  down  by  the  freight  elevator. 

A  motor  hearse  was  waiting  below. 

When  the  burial  was  over,  she  came  home  alone 
with  Joe.  She  sat  in  the  living-room  watching 
his  face,  while  the  dusk  grew  mercifully  deep. 
Then  she  made  him  eat  some  supper  and  take 
something  to  make  him  sleep.  And  later  in  her 
own  small  room  she  lay  on  her  bed,  dishevelled, 
tearless,  her  mind  stunned,  her  feelings  queer  and 
uneven,  now  surging  up,  now  cold  and  still. 

< ' Where  has  she  gone?  What  do  I  know?  .  .  . 
What  do  I  believe?  Where  is  God?  .  .  .  What  is 
life  ?  What  am  I  here  f or  ? " 

With  a  pang  she  recalled  the  town  in  Ohio  where 
she  and  Amy  had  been  born,  and  her  thoughts 


50  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

went  drifting  for  awhile.  Pictures  floated  in  and 
out,  pictures  of  her  life  at  home.  She  was  hungry 
for  them  now,  the  old  stays  and  firm  supports, 
the  old  frame  house,  her  father  and  the  God  in 
the  yellow  church,  the  quiet  river,  the  high  school 
and  that  friendly  group  of  eager  girl  companions, 
with  work,  discussions,  young  ideals,  plans  and 
dreams  of  life  and  love.  .  .  .  All  up  by  the  roots 
in  a  few  swift  weeks ! 

1  < Shall  I  go  back?"  she  asked  herself.  "Do  I 
want  to  go — now  that  Dad  is  dead,  and  most  of  the 
girls  have  gone  away,  scattered  all  over  the  coun 
try?"  Again  she  lapsed.  "I'm  too  dull  to 
think. ' '  She  let  the  pictures  drift  again.  Church 
sociables,  a  Christmas  tree,  dances,  suppers  and 
buggy  rides,  picnics  by  the  river.  How  small  and 
very  far-away  and  trivial  they  now  appeared.  All 
had  pointed  toward  New  York.  "Go  back  and 
marry,  settle  down?  Do  I  want  to?  No.  And 
anyhow,  there's  Joe  and  Susette.  My  place  is 
right  here — and  I'm  going  to  stay.  But  what  is 
it  going  to  mean  to  me?  What  do  I  want  in  this 
city  now?" 

In  the  turmoil,  startled,  she  looked  about  her 
for  a  purpose,  some  ideal.  But  the  old  beliefs 
seemed  dim;  the  new  ones,  garish  and  confused. 
She  recalled  those  faces  of  Amy's  friends.  "Yes, 
cheap  and  tough,  for  all  their  clothes!"  Or  was 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  51 

it  just  this  ghastly  time  that  had  made  them  all 

appear  so? 

Again  she  thought  of  her  sister  dead. 
"Oh  Amy — Amy!    Where  have  you  gone?" 
And  at  last,  quite  suddenly,  the  tears  came,  and 

she  huddled  and  shook  on  her  bed. 


CHAPTER  V 

SHE  slept  that  night  exhausted,  woke  up  early 
the  next  morning  and  lay  motionless  on  her 
bed:  at  first  staring  bewildered  about  the  room, 
and  then,  with  a  sharp  contraction  of  her  brows 
and  a  quick  breath,  looking  intently  up  at  the 
ceiling.  A  vigilant  look  crept  into  her  eyes,  for 
at  once  instinctively  she  was  on  guard  against 
letting  the  feelings  of  yesterday  rise. 

"What  a  selfish  little  beast  I've  been.  Did 
I  help  in  the  funeral?  Not  a  bit.  Did  I  comfort 
poor  Joe?  Not  at  all.  I  was  occupied  wholly 
with  my  own  morbid  little  soul.  Now  we're  going 
to  stiffen  up,  my  love,  and  try  to  be  of  some  use 
to  Joe,  and  do  as  Amy  would  have  liked."  She 
began  to  tremble  suddenly.  \  "No,  we're  not  going 
to  think  of  her!  It's  dangerous!  Be  practical! 
To  begin  with,  I  must  clear  things  up.  I'll  have 
a  little  talk  with  Joe.  Poor  Joe — it's  going  to  be 
pretty  dreadful.  I'll  stick  by  him,  though,  and 
I've  got  to  learn  how  to  keep  him  from  going  out 
of  his  mind. ' ?  More  staring  at  the  ceiling.  <  <  One 
thing  I  know.  I  shan't  wear  black.  Amy  de 
tested  mourning,  and  Joe  will  see  life  black  enough 
as  it  is.  ...  Thank  Heaven  there's  the  house- 

52 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  53 

keeping  to  do.  That  shall  run  smoothly  if  it  kills 
me!  ...  All  right,  now  suppose  we  get  out  of 
bed." 

About  an  hour  later,  from  behind  Amy's  silver 
coffee  pot,  Ethel  had  her  talk  with  Joe.  She  felt 
ill,  but  she  bit  her  lips  and  smiled.  She  had 
dressed  her  hair  becomingly  and  had  donned  a 
blue  silk  waist,  one  of  the  countless  pretty  things 
that  she  had  bought  with  Amy.  Her  brown  eyes 
had  a  resolute  brightness. 

"We'll  have  to  help  each  other,"  she  'Said. 
"And  there's  Susette  to  be  thought  of.  The  best 
way,  I  guess,  is  not  to  try  to  do  much  planning 
ahead  just  now.  But  I'd  like  to  stay  here  if  you 
want  me,  Joe.  There's  no  other  place  where  I 
want  to  be. ' ' 

He  gave  her  a  grateful  tired  smile.  His  hair 
was  a  bit  dishevelled,  and  over  his  blunt  kindly 
face  had  come  a  haggard  lost  expression.  His 
voice  was  low: 

6 '  Thank  you,  Ethel — y ou  're  a  brick.  I  want  you 
here  at  first,  God  knows.  Later  I'll  try  to  fix 
things  so  that  you  can  feel  more  free.  You're 
only  a  kid,  with  a  life  of  your  own.  Big  city,  you 
know,  and  you'll  find  your  place." 

He  stared  over  at  the  window,  where  the  sun 
was  streaming  in. 

"Another  cup  of  coffee,  Joe?" 


54  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"No,  thanks."  He  rose  slowly,  and  added, 
"Let's  go  now  to — Amy's  desk — and  fix  up  the 
housekeeping  part  of  it." 

Later  he  said,  "I'll  see  the  nurse  and  the  other 
two  maids  and  tell  'em  they're  to  take  orders  from 
you."  He  paused  a  moment.  "And  Ethel — if 
you're  to  stay  here,  I  want  it  to  be  as  nearly  like 
it  was  as  I  can."  He  gave  a  wincing  frown.  "I 
mean  on  the  money  side, ' '  he  said.  "  I  '11  give  you 
a  check  the  first  of  each  month.  You'll  need 
things  of  your  own,  of  course — as  she  did.  I  want 
it  just  like  that." 

"Thank  you,  dear."  She  saw  a  muscle  in  his 
cheek  suddenly  begin  to  twitch,  and  she  thought, 
"It  won't  be  easy." 

When  Joe  left  for  his  office,  she  went  with  him 
to  the  door. 

She  turned  at  once  to  the  housekeeping.  Her 
talks  with  the  waitress  and  the  cook  left  her  both 
a  little  relieved  and  a  good  deal  disappointed. 
For  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  for  her  to  do ;  she 
was  made  to  feel  that  things  would  run  best  with 
the  least  possible  interference.  She  learned  with 
surprise  that  hitherto  the  cook  had  done  all  the 
ordering. 

"All  I  need  to  know  is  how  many  is  coming," 
said  the  cook. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  55 

" There  won't  be  any  one  for  awhile.'' 

"Then  it's  very  simple,  ma'am."  On  the 
woman's  face  was  a  look  which  said,  "Just  you 
keep  out  of  my  kitchen. ' ' 

It  was  the  same  in  her  talk  with  the  nurse. 
That  tall  gaunt  creature  briefly  explained  that, 
"Mrs.  Lanier  bought  clothes  Spring  and  Fall,  and 
then  she  left  the  child  to  me.  I  go  out  every 
Thursday  and  every  other  Sunday — afternoon  and 
evening.  Lucy  the  waitress  takes  my  place.  The 
rest  of  the  time  I  Ve  managed  alone. ' '  She  looked 
around  in  a  jealous  way  and  asked,  "I  suppose 
you  '11  want  things  as  before  1 ' ' 

"Yes,  for  the  present,"  Ethel  said.  She  felt 
the  woman  glance  at  her  sharply  as  she  turned 
toward  the  door. 

She  went  into  her  sister's  room,  sat  down  and 
had  a  little  cry.  But  the  sunlight  was  streaming 
in  through  the  pretty  chintz  curtains  there;  and 
its  softness  and  its  ease,  its  luxury  and  blithe 
content,  stole  into  her  spirit  and  quieted  her.  She 
sat  looking  about. 

"What  is  there  for  me  to  do?" 

It  came  over  her  that  the  cook  and  the  nurse 
could  tell  her  just  about  what  they  pleased.  She 
had  no  means  of  checking  them  up,  for  Amy  had 
never  talked  of  such  things.  It  had  all  been  pretty 
clothes  and  shops,  in  those  brief  exciting  weeks, 


56  HIS   SECOND  WIFE 

and  shrewd  counsel  about  men  and  what  it  was 
they  wanted  of  women.  How  appallingly  shallow 
and  meaningless  those  conversations  now  ap 
peared.  They  gave  no  comfort  or  support.  The 
remembrance  of  the  terror  in  Amy's  eyes  at  the 
thought  of  death  rose  vividly  in  Ethel's  mind,  and 
she  got  up  and  walked  the  floor. 

< ' We '11  fight  this  down— we'll  fight  this  down," 
she  kept  repeating  determinedly.  And  as  soon 
as  she  was  quiet  again:  "What  is  there  for  me 
to  do?  Why  Joe,  of  course — and  heaven  knows 
he  '11  be  enough.  He 's  the  hardest  kind,  he  doesn  't 
cry,  he  keeps  it  all  inside  of  him."  She  drew  a 
deep  breath.  "How  about  this  room!"  She 
frowned  and  looked  around  her.  "No,  I  don't 
think  he  wants  anything  changed.  For  the  pres 
ent  at  least,  I  '11  leave  it  alone.  But  he  ought  not 
to  be  reminded  of  her  by  every  little  thing  he 
sees." 

She  looked  into  the  closets.  In  Joe 's  she  found 
some  of  Amy 's  things.  She  put  them  back  in  her 
sister's  closet  and  then  gently  closed  the  door.  As 
she  stood  there  a  moment  longer,  she  had  a  curi 
ous  feeling  of  Amy's  presence  by  her  side. 

6  i  Now,  my  dear,  we  'd  better  go  out  for  a  walk, ' ' 
she  told  herself  as  she  turned  away.  But  she 
threw  a  glance  behind  her. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  57 

In  the  weeks  that  followed  she  and  Joe  were 
more  intensely  alone  together  than  she  could  have 
imagined. 

At  first  a  few  of  Amy's  friends  kept  dropping  in 
every  now  and  then.  But  although  their  inten 
tions  were  kindly  enough,  Ethel  felt  repelled  by 
them.  She  resented  their  having  been  Amy's 
friends.  For  swiftly  and  quite  unconsciously,  in 
her  resolute  groping  in  the  dark  for  solid  ground 
on  which  to  stand,  she  was  building  up  an  ideal  of 
her  sister — and  these  women  jarred  on  that. 
They  came  to  her  direct  from  a  world,  her  sister's 
world,  which  she  now  vaguely  felt  to  be  cheap, 
shallow,  disillusioning.  And  she  needed  her  il 
lusions.  By  nature  frank  to  bluntness,  she  was 
not  good  at  hiding  dislikes;  and  her  uneasy  vis 
itors  soon  realized  with  relief  that  they  were  not 
wanted  here. 

Fanny  Carr  still  came  for  a  time.  For  some 
reason  that  Ethel  could  not  understand,  this 
shrewd  person  seemed  reluctant  to  let  go  her  hold 
as  a  friend.  She  was  most  solicitous  about  Joe 
and  tried  to  come  when  he  was  at  home.  But  as 
Ethel's  dislike  of  the  woman  deepened  in  intensity, 
gradually  Fanny's  visits,  too,  grew  less  frequent 
and  then  ceased. 

During  the  first  week  or  two,  Joe's  partner  al- 


58  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

most  every  night  came  home  with  him  to  dinner 
and  took  him  out  for  evening  walks.  But  his  talk 
was  all  of  business.  It  seemed  to  Ethel  that  pur 
posely  Nourse  shut  her  out  of  the  conversation. 
His  manner  to  her,  though  not  unkind,  was  like 
that  of  the  cook  and  the  nurse.  "The  less  you 
meddle  here,"  it  said,  "the  better  it  will  be  for 
Joe.  Leave  him  to  me." 

Gleams  of  this  feeling  came  in  his  eyes.  It 
showed  now  and  then  so  openly  that  even  Joe  took 
notice.  He  stopped  bringing  his  partner  home, 
and  he  drew  closer  to  Ethel  now,  as  together  they 
cherished  the  memory  of  the  woman  who  was 
gone. 

And  slowly,  in  this  companionship,  this  lone 
liness,  this  quiet,  Joe  grew  very  real  to  her,  and 
appealing  in  his  grief.  Everything  else  seemed 
so  remote — but  he  was  close.  "He  needs  me." 
It  was  a  bright  spot  in  the  dark.  At  times  this 
darkness  had  no  end,  it  stretched  away  to  eternity ; 
but  at  least  she  did  not  face  it  alone.  Of  Joe's 
grief  she  could  have  no  doubt.  Each  week  his 
blunt  strong  features  displayed  more  lines  of  suf 
fering;  his  high  cheek-bones  showed  hard  and 
grim.  He  was  grateful,  affectionate  at  times,  but 
more  often  silent,  and  she  saw  in  his  eyes  what 
frightened  her.  He  had  so  few  resources  here. 
In  his  office  was  his  work,  just  as  it  had  always 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  59 

been ;  but  at  home  there  was  nothing ;  his  wife  was 
gone,  and  he  seemed  restless  to  get  out. 

" Let's  go  somewhere, "  he  would  mutter. 

She  went  with  him  for  strolls  in  the  evenings. 
Often  they  walked  on  and  on  till  both  were  ready 
to  drop  with  fatigue,  but  she  stuck  doggedly  by 
his  side.  One  evening  they  passed  the  open  door 
of  a  church.  It  was  lighted,  and  the  deep  low 
rumble  of  an  organ  floated  out.  Joe  stopped  a 
moment  irresolute,  and  then  started  to  go  inside. 
But  a  glance  through  the  door  revealed  to  him 
that  the  church  was  nearly  empty ;  and  he  turned 
away  as  he  would  have  turned  from  any  show  on 
Broadway  which  was  so  obviously  "not  a  hit." 

"Sometimes  on  Sunday  mornings  I  seem  to 
hear  'em,  preachers,  droning  and  shouting  all  over 
the  land,"  he  told  her  once.  "What's  in  it? 
What  do  they  know  about  God  or  where  you  go 
when  you  are  dead?  Nothing,  no  more  than  you 
or  I!" 

His  voice  was  harsh  and  bitter  then,  but  the  next 
instant  it  was  kind.  With  his  arm  about  her  he 
was  saying, 

"Don't,  Ethel— please— don't  take  it  like  that! 
I  was  a  brute!  I  won't  again!  I'll  keep  it  in 
side  !  I  'm  sorry,  dear ! ' ' 

"Oh,  Joe,"  she  whispered,  "if  we  only  knew!" 

So  these  two  faced  eternity. 


60  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

But  only  at  moments.  They  looked  away.  For 
she  saw  how  good  it  was  for  Joe  to  have  the  dis 
tractions  that  he  craved;  and  so  on  their  long 
walks  at  night  she  took  him  to  the  noisy  streets, 
or  into  the  movies,  where  his  mind  appeared  to 
stop  and  find  some  rest.  Best  of  all,  she  dis 
covered,  was  to  go  with  him  in  the  small  car  which 
he  used  for  his  business.  Driving  this  car  through 
crowded  streets  amid  a  clamour  and  blare  of 
horns  and  shouts  and  peals  of  laughter,  the  look 
on  Joe's  face  made  Ethel  see  how  this  dulled  his 
grief,  how  he  lost  himself  and  his  questionings  and 
became  a  mere  part  of  the  town.  What  a  glam 
ourous  seething  town !  There  was  something  ter 
rific  to  her  in  its  laugh.  If  you  stopped  to  think 
and  ask  yourself,  "What  are  we  all  doing  here?" 
how  soon  it  jostled  you  back  into  line ! 

So  passed  another  fortnight.  Then  Joe  grew 
quieter,  and  with  relief  she  saw  he  was  ready  to 
stay  home.  She  herself  felt  tired  and  relaxed; 
and  it  was  good  to  sit  at  home  on  these  December 
evenings  and  feel  that  both  had  partly  emerged 
from  the  sea  of  doubts  in  which  they  had  been 
plunged.  He  had  come  out  of  it,  she  soon  learned, 
with  an  image  of  his  wife  that  even  Ethel  vaguely 
felt  was  swiftly  becoming  so  ideal  as  to  have  little 
or  no  resemblance  to  the  woman  who  had  died. 
But  eagerly  she  helped  him  in  this  building  of 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  61 

Amy's  memory.  She  dwelt  upon  Amy's  appeal 
ing  side,  her  lovable  moods,  her  beauty  and  dash, 
her  unerring  instinct  for  pretty  things,  her  un 
selfishness,  her  anxious  planning  for  Ethel's  good. 

And  all  this  fitted  in  so  well  with  the  picture 
Joe  was  making  of  the  wife  who  had  been  so  true 
to  him,  who  had  never  had  a  thought  or  a  wish 
for  anything  but  his  career.  How  cheerfully  she 
had  given  up  all  sorts  of  pleasures,  trips  abroad, 
a  house  in  the  country,  summer  vacations.  Year 
after  year  she  had  spent  the  hot  months  almost 
wholly  in  town  because  he  could  not  afford  to 
leave,  although  she  herself  had  had  many  chances 
to  go  to  friends  in  the  mountains  or  up  along 
the  seashore.  Instead  she  had  stayed  with  him 
in  town ;  and  in  the  evenings  always  she  had  been 
waiting,  good-humoured  and  gay,  ready  to  stay 
home  or  go  out;  with  never  a  word  of  complaint 
for  the  delay  of  his  prosperity,  but  only  encour 
agement  and  praise. 

At  times,  as  Joe  talked  on  and  on,  in  this  mood 
of  hungry  wistful  love  and  humility  and  self- 
reproach,  Ethel  would  bring  herself  back  with  a 
jerk  to  the  Amy  she  had  known;  but  again  she 
would  feel  herself  borne  along  upon  the  tide  of 
his  belief,  and  she  was  glad  that  it  was  so.  So 
the  picture  grew.  Nor  was  it  only  when  they 
talked.  For  often  in  long  silences,  when  she 


62  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

thought  he  was  reading  his  paper,  she  would 
glance  up  from  her  book  and  find  him  staring  into 
the  past.  And  again  at  the  piano,  smoking  and 
playing  idly,  his  music  made  her  realize  how  his 
mind  was  groping  back  through  the  years,  picking 
and  choosing  here  and  there  what  he  needed  to 
build  up  his  ideal. 

This  music  at  times  made  her  curious,  wonder 
ing  what  kind  of  a  man  he  had  been  before  Amy 
took  him  in  hand. 

1 ' Where  did  you  learn  to  play  like  that,  Joe?" 
He  frowned  a  little. 

"Oh,  long  ago." 

He  did  not  seem  to  care  to  go  back  of  his  mar 
riage.  So  Ethel  let  him  continue  his  building; 
and  though  at  times  she  smiled  a  little  at  some 
of  his  fond  recollections,  still  her  own  deep  adora 
tion  of  her  older  sister,  the  whirl  of  happy  mem 
ories  of  that  vivid  month  in  town,  and  the  sense  of 
all  that  Amy  had  been  planning  to  do  for  her, 
combined  now  with  her  desperate  loneliness  to 
put  Ethel  in  a  mood  where  she  gladly  and  loyally 
believed  almost,  anything  good  of  her  sister. 

Christmas  was  only  one  example  of  many  simi 
lar  incidents.  They  had  a  small  Christmas  tree 
for  Susette,  and  they  hung  up  her  stocking  as 
well,  and  went  out  Christmas  Eve  and  bought 
candy  canes  and  dogs  and  dolls  and  picture  books. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  63 

And  although  this  was  Ethel's  idea,  it  was  made 
to  appear  as  only  the  thing  which  Amy  would  have 
done  had  she  lived. 

So  in  these  two  hungry  souls,  groping  for 
something  bright  and  deep  and  strong  upon  which 
they  could  live,  swiftly  and  unawares  to  them 
both  the  picture  of  Amy  was  stamped  deep, 
idealized  and  beautified.  In  life  it  had  been  fas 
cinating,  but  now  it  was  almost  heroic  as  well.  It 
was  as  though  the  small  gloved  hand,  which  Ethel 
had  noticed  so  many  times,  in  death  had  increased 
the  power  of  its  light,  firm,  tenacious  hold. 

Ethel  began  to  feel  more  free,  for  Joe  was  no 
longer  on  her  mind.  More  than  once,  in  fact,  she 
was  surprised  at  the  way  he  seemed  to  be  settling 
down.  She  felt  a  deeper  change  in  him,  something 
she  did  not  understand.  The  worn  harassed  ex 
pression  she  had  so  often  seen  on  his  face  while 
his  wife  had  been  alive,  the  look  of  a  man  driven 
and  drained  of  his  vitality,  was  now  gone;  and 
in  its  place  was  an  unconscious  look  of  content. 
He  often  stayed  very  late  at  the  office ;  and  more 
and  more  in  his  evenings  at  home  he  went  to  his 
desk  and  became  absorbed  in  documents  and  blue 
print  plans. 

"What  a  refuge  a  man's  business  is,"  she 
thought  with  a  twinge  of  envy. 


64  HIS  SECOND   WIFE 

And  wistfully  she  began  to  look  about  for  some 
resource  for  herself.  She  felt  the  youth  within 
her  rise,  but  the  city  seemed  so  vast  and  strange. 
In  her  loneliness  the  big  building  of  which  her 
present  home  was  a  part,  seemed  doubly  huge,  im 
personal,  hard;  and  so  did  every  other  building  on 
that  block  appear.  She  felt  lost,  left  out  amid 
ceaseless  tides  of  gaiety  on  every  hand.  She  took 
long  determined  walks,  and  on  these  walks  she 
donned  the  smart  attractive  clothes  that  she  had 
bought  with  Amy.  She  strove  to  keep  her  mind 
on  the  sights,  the  faces  of  people  afoot  and  in 
cars,  the  adorable  things  in  shop  windows.  And 
she  chatted  busily  to  herself  in  order  to  keep  on 
admiring.  This  old  habit  of  hers,  of  soliloquy, 
had  grown  upon  her  unawares,  as  a  refuge  from 
her  loneliness.  Sometimes  she  even  talked  aloud. 
Sturdily  she  told  herself, 

"You've  only  begun.  You'll  get  up  out  of  this, 
Ethel  Knight — just  wait.  Can't  you  give  a  few 
months  to  Amy  now  1 ' ' 

And  scowling  at  her  "morbidness"  in  feeling 
dreary  and  forlorn,  she  resolutely  scanned  the 
papers  for  news  of  lectures,  plays  and  concerts. 
She  went  to  a  few  in  the  afternoons,  and  dressed 
for  them  as  carefully  as  though  they  were  great 
social  affairs.  And  in  the  intermissions  when  a 
buzz  of  talk  would  rise,  she  would  begin  with  quick 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  65 

animation  to  converse  with  herself  and  be  gay,  or 
alert  and  argumentative.  Her  lips  would  move 
inaudibly.  Now  and  then  she  would  brightly 
smile  and  nod  across  the  house  at  some  friend  she 
pretended  to  have  seen.  She  enrolled  for  a  course 
of  lectures  upon  "Mental  Science/'  She  re 
sumed  her  reading  of  magazines  and  books  on  all 
kinds  of  topics.  It  made  her  think  of  high  school 
days,  and  hungrily  she  reached  back  for  that  old 
zest  and  inquisitiveness  about  everything  under 
the  moon  and  stars. 

And  through  this  searching  she  caught  hints  of 
the  presence  in  the  city  of  a  life  wider  and  deeper 
than  shops  and  yet  not  antagonistic — a  life  of 
gaiety,  grace  and  ease,  but  with  it  all  the  brilliancy 
to  which  Amy  had  been  blind ;  the  rich  ferment  of 
new  ideas  in  women's  lives,  discussions,  work  of 
many  kinds,  art,  music,  "movements"  all  com 
bined  into  one  thrilling,  pulsing  whole.  And  again 
she  felt  within  herself  that  rising  tide  of  youth 
and  eager  vitality. 

"Oh,  what  couldn't  I  do,  my  dear,  if  I  only  had 
a  chance?  Why  doesn't  somebody  see  it  at  once 
— notice  me  now,  right  here  on  the  street?  You, 
madam,  in  that  limousine — look  out  and  see  me — 
don't  go  by!  You're  losing  the  chance  of  a  life 
time!  You're  missing  me — me — Ethel  Knight!" 

As  the  dame  in  her  car  sped  smoothly  by,  Ethel 


66  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

suddenly  laughed  aloud.  But  her  laughter  had  a 
dangerous  note,  and  she  added  fiercely,  biting  her 
lip: 

"Now,  don't  be  silly  and  burst  into  tears!" 

"Ma'am?"  said  a  voice. 

She  stopped  with  a  jerk  and  looked  up  into  the 
startled  eyes  of  a  massive  young  policeman.  Her 
last  remark  had  been  spoken  directly  up  into  his 
face,  and  the  youth  was  blushing  visibly. 

"  Oh ! "  she  gasped.    ' '  Excuse  me ! " 

"Certainly,  ma'am." 

And  she  hurried  on. 

This  loneliness  lasted  several  weeks.  Then  Joe 
grew  dimly  aware  of  it,  and  came  to  her  assis 
tance  with  awkward  efforts  to  comfort  her.  He 
was  at  home  more  often  at  night.  His  gruff  voice 
took  on  a  kindlier  tone,  and  in  an  offhand  manner 
intended  to  seem  casual  he  would  ask  where  she 
had  been  that  day  or  what  book  she  was  reading. 
And  they  would  discuss  it  for  a  while.  He  took 
her  to  the  theatre  and  to  a  concert  now  and  then. 
They  went  for  rides  at  night  in  his  car,  and  he 
talked  to  her  about  his  work.  She  could  feel  his 
anxious  friendliness.  "What  a  dear  he  is  to  me," 
she  thought. 

As  time  went  on  this  companionship  grew  so 
natural  to  them  both  that  more  than  once  Ethel 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  67 

felt  in  herself  a  content  which  made  her  a  little 
uneasy.  As  in  his  blunt  kindly  way  Joe  drew 
closer  to  her  now,  she  had  an  awkward  conscious 
ness  of  being  in  her  sister's  place.  No,  not  that 
exactly.  Still,  she  did  not  care  to  think  of  it.  She 
kept  out  of  Amy's  room.  It  had  subtly  changed 
and  become  Joe's  room — to  her  mind  at  least — 
though  by  little  things  he  said  and  did  she  knew 
that  Joe  was  keeping  that  idealized  image  of  his 
wife  still  warm  and  living  in  his  mind. 

But  was  he — altogether?  At  times  she  would 
frown  to  herself  a  bit.  Joe  loyal?  Yes,  of  course 
he  was,  she  would  indignantly  declare.  In  a  novel 
Ethel  had  once  read,  the  hero  who  had  lost  his  wife 
had  taken  his  grief  in  this  same  silent  way;  and 
the  author  had  laid  it  down  as  a  law  that  all  quiet 
widowers  are  the  kind  who  never,  never  marry 
again.  This  thought  had  taken  root  in  her  mind ; 
and  she  applied  it  now  to  Joe. 

Soon  at  his  suggestion  she  began  to  use  some  of 
Amy's  things.  One  night  when  they  were  going 
out,  he  helped  her  slip  into  her  sister's  soft  lux 
urious  sable  cloak.  And  as  she  turned,  she  de 
tected  a  queerly  uncertain  look  in  Joe 's  eyes.  But 
in  an  instant  it  was  gone,  and  she  soon  dismissed 
her  uneasiness.  For  through  the  weeks  that  fol 
lowed  he  became  engrossed  in  his  business  and 
barely  noticed  her  at  all. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ABOUT  this  time  a  letter  from  home  brought 
her  a  sharp  disappointment.  Ethel  was  not 
a  good  correspondent,  but  during  the  homesick 
winter  months  she  had  written  several  times  to 
three  of  the  girls  she  had  known  in  school.  Two 
had  gone  west,  but  the  other  one  was  still  in  Ohio 
and  was  planning  to  come  to  New  York,  to  take 
a  course  of  training  as  nurse  in  one  of  the  hos 
pitals.  In  fact  it  had  been  all  arranged.  And 
Ethel  had  not  realized  how  much  she  had  counted 
on  this  friend,  until  now  a  letter  came  announcing 
her  engagement  to  a  young  doctor  in  Detroit. 
She  was  going  there  to  live,  and  her  letter  was 
full  of  her  happiness.  Ethel  was  very  blue  that 
night. 

But  only  a  few  days  after  this  she  received  an 
other  missive  that  had  quite  a  different  effect.  It 
Was  a  long  bulky  epistle,  a  "round  robin "  from 
the  members  of  the  little  high  school  club  to  which 
she  had  belonged  at  home.  The  girls  had  scat 
tered  far  and  wide.  One  was  teaching  music  in  an 
Oklahoma  town;  another  had  gone  to  Cleveland 
and  was  a  stenographer  in  a  broker's  office  there; 

68 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  69 

a  third  was  in  Chicago,  the  wife  of  a  young  lawyer ; 
and  a  fourth  had  married  an  engineer  who  was 
working  a  mine  in  Montana.  It  made  an  absorb 
ing  narrative,  and  she  read  it  several  times.  At 
first  it  took  her  out  of  herself,  far,  far  out  all  over 
the  land.  How  good  it  was  to  get  news  of  them 
all,  how  nice  and  gossipy  and  gay.  It  was  almost 
as  though  they  were  here  in  the  room ;  she  seemed 
to  be  talking  with  each  one ;  and  as  they  chatted  on 
and  on,  the  feeling  grew  in  Ethel  that  each  was 
starting  like  herself  and  that  some  were  having 
no  easy  time  in  unfamiliar  places.  She  could  read 
between  the  lines. 

But  the  part  that  struck  her  most  was  the  con 
tribution  of  their  former  history  "prof,"  a  little 
lame  woman  with  snappy  black  eyes,  who  had  been 
the  leading  spirit  in  their  long  discussions.  She 
was  an  ardent  suffragist,  and  she  it  was  who  had 
brought  so  many  modern  books  and  plays  and 
1 1  movements ' '  into  their  talk.  Chained  to  her  job 
in  the  small  town,  she  had  followed  voraciously  all 
the  news  of  the  seething  changing  world  outside, 
of  the  yeast  at  work  in  the  cities.  And  to  the  let 
ters  of  some  of  the  girls  who  seemed  bent  upon 
nothing  but  social  success,  the  little  teacher  now 
replied  by  an  appeal  to  all  of  them : 

"Girls,  some  of  these  letters  worry  me.  I  don't 
want  to  preach — you  will  lead  your  own  lives. 


70  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

But  I  cannot  help  reminding  you  of  the  things  we 
talked  about — the  splendid  things,  exciting  things 
that  are  stirring  in  this  land  today.  Oh,  what  a 
chance  for  women — what  openings  with  narrow 
doors — what  fights  to  make  the  doorways  wide  for 
the  girls  who  will  come  after  you!  Keep  your 
selves  strong  and  awake  and  alive — keep  growing 
— remember  that  life  is  a  school  and  for  you  it  has 
only  just  begun.  Don 't  sit  at  your  desks — in  your 
homes,  I  mean — blinking  with  a  man  at  your  side. 
Keep  yourselves  free — don't  marry  for  money — 
don't  let  yourselves  get  under  the  thumb  of  any 
husband,  rich  or  poor,  or  of  social  position  or 
money  or  clothes  or  any  such  silly  trumpery.  Get 
the  real  things!  Oh,  I'm  preaching,  I  know,  as 
I  did  in  spite  of  myself  at  home.  But  girls — dear 
friends  and  comrades — be  strong — and  don't  give 
up  the  ship ! ' ' 

Ethel  read  it  many  times.  She  could  hear  the 
voice  of  the  little  "prof,"  now  earnest,  scornful, 
pleading,  now  obstinate  and  angry,  again  light- 
hearted,  mocking.  She  recalled  how  their  leader 
had  warned  them  against  the  bribery  of  men. 
Most  of  the  girls  had  smiled  at  her  then,  for  they 
had  felt  themselves  so  strong  and  clear  in  their 
aims  and  desires. 

"Oh,  Ethel— Ethel— Ethel  Knight.  How  have 
the  mighty  fallen.  One  week  in  New  York  and 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  71 

your  eyes  were  glued  to  the  windows  of  shops. 
You  got  ready  to  dance  and  find  a  man. ' ' 

The  thought  rose  in  her  mind — "That  was 
Amy's  idea."  But  she  dismissed  it  with  a  frown. 
She  turned  back  to  the  letters  and  read  them  all 
through  over  again.  She  rose  and  walked  slowly 
up  and  down  with  her  hands  locked  behind  her. 
Then  she  went  to  her  desk,  and  to  the  round  robin 
she  added  this : 

"I  am  in  New  York  and  have  nothing  to  say. 
I  have  been  a  fool.  I  have  spent  nearly  all  my 
money  on  a  lot  of  silly  clothes.  No,  not  silly — 
fetching  clothes — for  they  were  meant  to  fetch  a 
man.  But  in  getting  them  I  got  nothing  else. 
I  have  had  a  shock — a  terrible  one.  My  sister 
Amy  suddenly  died.  I  am  here  now  to  care  for 
her  child.  But  am  II  Nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
nurse  does  that  and  I  do  nothing.  I  just  sit 
or  walk  about  and  scowl  at  what  I  am  missing. 
No  more  from  me,  girls,  until  the  round  robin — the 
dear  splendid  thrilling  round  robin — comes  back 
here  on  its  next  yearly  round.  I  swear  I'll  have 
a  job  by  then!  Good  luck  and  God  bless  us  all! 
We're  young!" 

Quickly  she  crammed  all  the  letters  into  a  large 
envelope,  licked  it,  pressed  it  firmly  down,  and 
addressed  it  to,  "Miss  Barbara  Wells,  Bismarck, 
North  Dakota,"  She  stamped  it,  felt  the  tears 


72  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

come,  kissed  the  letter  a  fierce  good-bye,  took  it 
out  and  dropped  it  in  the  mail  box  in  the  hall. 
Then  she  came  back  to  her  own  room,  and  with 
swift,  determined  jerks  took  off  the  black  cloth 
wrapping  of  a  large  old-fashioned  typewriter,  one 
of  the  few  belongings  she  had  brought  from  Ohio. 
She  had  purchased  it  several  years  ago,  and  by 
typing  sermons  and  other  occasional  documents 
she  had  earned  almost  money  enough  for  the 
clothes  that  had  cost  so  little  at  home. 

She  sat  down  and  began  to  pound  the  keys, 
but  soon  she  stopped  and  shook  her  head.  She 
had  never  been  an  expert.  Self-taught,  her  work 
had  been  laboured  and  slow,  and  the  lapse  of 
months  had  thrown  her  out.  "However!  Some 
thing  must  be  done ! ' '  And  the  pounding  went  on 
for  days  and  days,  hour  after  hour ;  and  when  her 
fingers,  wrists  and  arms  felt  like  "two  long  tooth 
aches/'  she  exclaimed  impatiently, 

"Oh,  for  goodness  sake  stop  being  so  soft! 
You're  a  new  woman,  Ethel  Knight,  and  you're 
going  to  earn  your  living!" 

At  times,  however,  stopping  to  rest  and  care 
fully  scan  her  labour  for  faults,  her  mind  would 
rove  far  out  into  life.  She  was  copying  from  two 
books  the  little  "prof"  had  given  her,  the  "Life 
and  Letters  of  George  Sand";  and  "The  Work 
of  Susan  B.  Anthony."  And  as  Ethel  pounded 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  73 

on,  each  book  in  its  own  way  revealed  exciting 
vistas  to  her  eyes  of  life  in  great  cities  both  here 
and  abroad,  life  earnest  and  inspiring,  life  bright 
and  thrilling,  brilliant,  free! 

6  i  Oh,  your  future  life,  my  love,  will  be  far  from 
dull  and  blinking ! ' ' 

And  this  mood  lasted  for  two  weeks.  Then  as 
her  hand  grew  more  expert,  and  she  scanned  the 
papers  for  information  of  employment  bureaus, 
there  came  some  ugly  hours  when  much  pounding 
was  required.  She  went  out  and  tramped  the 
streets,  meeting  the  town  with  angry  eyes  that 
struggled  for  self-confidence.  And  twice,  al 
though  she  had  dressed  herself  with  a  keen  and 
vigilant  eye  to  her  own  attractiveness  and  had 
gone  to  the  bureau  she  had  selected,  with  a  sinking 
heart  she  turned  back  from  the  door.  But  the 
second  time,  after  leaving,  with  a  scowl  she  faced 
about,  went  back  and  marched  into  the  office. 
And  a  little  later  when  she  emerged,  her  face  had 
a  stunned  and  dazed  expression.  She  still  could 
not  believe  it!  For  the  woman  in  charge,  after 
one  sharp  look  and  a  number  of  questions,  had  re 
marked, 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  we  can  place  you.  I've  one 
position  waiting  right  now."  There  had  been 
more  questioning,  but  this  had  seemed  rather  per 
functory.  The  woman  had  not  appeared  to  care 


74  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

very  much  that  Ethel  had  only  one  reference — 
from  the  old  minister  back  at  home ;  and  the  brief 
exhibition  of  her  skill  which  Ethel  gave  upon  a 
machine,  with  her  fingers  excited,  cold  and  tense, 
had  lasted  but  a  minute  or  two  when  the  woman 
had  said,  "Yes,  that  will  do." 

Ethel  scowled  as  she  tried  to  remember  it  all. 
There  had  been  one  flaw.  What  was  it? 

"Oh,  yes,  she  warned  me  about  men."  And 
here  Ethel  gave  a  sharp  little  laugh,  with  a  lump 
of  excitement  in  her  throat.  "Well,  I  think  I  can 
handle  myself  on  that  point."  She  recalled  with 
assurance  recollections — and  there  had  been  not 
a  few — of  youths  at  home  who  had  tried  to  "get 
fresh,"  and  had  soon  been  shown  where  they  got 
off! 

She  was  walking  very  rapidly  toward  a  subway 
station,  and  soon  she  was  on  her  way  downtown. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  it  isn't 
your  skill,  it  is  your  face  that  has  got  you  this 
chance.  All  right,  Face,  thank  you  very  much. 
If  you'll  just  keep  steady,  eyes  easy  and  cool,  jaw 
firm  but  not  too  ugly."  .  .  . 

And  when  a  few  minutes  later  she  was  shown 
into  the  private  office  of  her  future  employer,  she 
almost  laughed  in  his  fat  round  face — so  absurd 
in  that  first  moment  did  all  her  little  qualms  ap 
pear. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  75 

"He's  forty  and  be  loves  Ms  meals." 

And  she  answered  his  questions  so  blithely,  with 
such  an  anxious  friendliness,  that  the  dumpy  man 
who  sat  at  the  desk  was  plainly  attracted  and 
easily  caught.  In  fact,  in  his  heavy-lidded  eyes 
and  about  his  thick  lips  came  a  look  which  repelled 
her  a  little.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  even  you 
might  get  feeling  young  again,"  she  thought  to 
herself  disgustedly.  "But  I  guess  I  can  attend 
to  that!" 

"Yes,  sir,  fifteen  dollars  a  week,"  she  was  say 
ing  meanwhile  in  a  firm  brisk  tone  of  voice.  '  '  Of 
course  I  know  it's  just  a  trial,  but  I'll  do  my  best, 
I  promise  you." 

"Veil,"  said  Mr.  Greesheimer,  "you  be  here  to 
morrow  at  nine  und  ve'll  see."  He  sighed. 
"Ve'll  see,  my  friend."  He  turned  back  to  his 
desk  with  an  abrupt  and  businesslike  little  gesture 
of  dismissal. 

And  this  businesslike  air  he  retained  on  the 
morrow.  As  he  explained  her  work  to  her,  the 
tone  of  his  voice  was  crisp  and  dry.  Ladies' 
cloaks  were  Greesheimer 's  "line,"  and  though  his 
business  was  still  new  he  was  increasing  it  rapidly. 
He  was  eager,  hungry,  almost  fierce  in  the  way  he 
snapped  off  his  letters  at  times;  again  he  was  a 
genial  soul,  boasting  to  her  of  his  success  and  giv 
ing  forth  shrewd  homely  proverbs  that  he  had 


76  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

learned  long  ago  as  a  child  in  some  Galician  vil 
lage.  But  never  in  those  weeks  of  work  did  she 
catch  a  suggestion  of  " freshness."  He  was  her 
boss,  and  at  times  her  friend  in  a  fatherly  fashion 
•. — that  was  all.  She  worked  hard,  overcame  her 
awkwardness,  was  punctual,  laboured  to  please 
him.  And  he  was  not  slow  to  praise. 

"You're  a  smart  young  goil,"  he  said  more  than 
once.  "Keep  on — it's  great — it  suits  me  fine." 

And  despite  the  monotonous  bleak  detail  of  her 
life  in  that  room,  Ethel  grew  steadily  happier 
there.  For  she  was  gaming  confidence  fast,  she 
was  living  up  to  her  ideals.  Soon  she  would  be 
ready  to  leave  this  funny  little  man  and  get  a 
place  of  a  different  kind — as  secretary,  for  in 
stance,  to  some  clever  woman  novelist  or  noted 
suffrage  leader.  She  had  already  put  down  her 
name  at  three  employment  bureaus,  in  each  of 
which  the  woman  in  charge  seemed  to  look  upon 
her  with  a  favourable  eye. 

Too  bad  poor  Joe  disliked  it  so.  When  she  in 
formed  him  of  what  she  had  done,  he  had  appeared 
quite  taken  back. 

"All  right,  Ethel,  go  ahead.  I  don't  want  to 
meddle,"  he  had  replied.  "Only—"  he  had 
scowled  at  her  in  an  effort  to  smile — "I  don't  quite 
see — well,  go  ahead." 

Plainly  it  had  been  a  surprise.    It  was  so  utterly 


HIS  SECOND   WIFE  77 

different  from  what  Amy  would  have  done.  It 
had  set  him  thinking,  hurt  him.  "She  wants  to 
get  away,"  he  had  thought.  Ethel  had  caught  his 
feeling  and  had  pitied  him  for  it.  But  mingled 
with  this  pity  had  been  a  vague  resentment : 

"The  minute  you  show  you've  made  up  your 
mind  to  be  a  little  independent,  they  treat  it  like 
a  slap  in  the  face.  All  right,  Mr.  Male  Provider, 
your  tender  feelings  will  have  to  be  hurt.  There 's 
nothing  the  matter,  I  mean  to  stay  here.  I  '11  stick 
by  you  just  as  long  as  you  need  me.  Only,  I  pro 
pose  to  be  free!" 

Their  relations  had  grown  a  little  strained.  He 
had  stayed  at  the  office  more  often  at  night.  Very 
well,  let  him  sulk  in  his  masculine  way.  Only  one 
remark  of  his  had  annoyed  her.  Like  the  woman 
in  the  employment  bureau,  he  had  warned  Ethel 
against  men. 

"When  it  comes  to  looks,"  he  had  ended, 
"you're  one  in  a  thousand.  And  in  this  town — " 

"Oh,  Joe,  for  goodness  sake  hush  up !"  she  had 
cried.  A  bright  spot  of  colour  had  come  in  each 
cheek  and  her  strong  little  mouth  had  set  viciously. 
"You'll  be  telling  me  next  that  I  got  my  position 
simply  on  my  pretty  face !  No  brains  behind  it, 
of  course,  no  mind!"  And  she  had  tapped  one 
foot  on  the  floor  in  a  way  which  made  him  look 
at  her  in  a  curious  manner,  startled  and  admiring. 


78  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"Oh,  no,  I  won't,"  he  had  told  her  meekly. 
"You've  got  the  makings  of  more  real  mind  than 
any  girl  I've  ever  seen." 

"Thank  yon,"  she  had  snapped  at  him,  but  she 
had  liked  him  nevertheless.  So  long  as  one  had 
to  live  with  a  man,  even  as  his  sister-in-law,  it  was 
well  to  have  him  in  his  place. 

So  her  annoyance  had  died  down,  and  had  only 
risen  a  little  again  when  one  day  Joe  came  to  her 
office.  There  was  some  excuse,  of  course,  but  his 
real  reason  obviously  was  to  have  a  look  at  her 
employer  and  at  the  same  time  show  the  man 
that  she  had  a  male  protector.  Booh!  .  .  .  But 
Joe  had  smiled  at  Greesheimer  and  had  withdrawn 
quite  reassured,  leaving  her  and  her  job  in  peace. 

As  Ethel's  business  life  went  on,  her  self-confi 
dence  grew  apace.  And  now  that  she  had  proved 
to  herself  that  she  had  brains  behind  her  face,  she 
dropped  her  air  of  severity  and  even  began  to  en 
joy  the  glances  which  she  knew  were  cast  her 
way,  on  the  streets  and  in  the  office.  Even  on  old 
Greesheimer,  when  he  was  in  one  of  his  genial 
moods,  she  would  bestow  a  winning  smile.  It  was 
good  to  have  both  brains  and  face.  She  looked 
at  the  city  with  challenging  eyes,  a  self-supporting 
woman. 

And  this  state  of  mind  might  have  lasted  some 
time,  had  it  not  happened  that  one  sunny  day  to- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  79 

ward  the  end  of  April  Greesheimer  opened  a  letter 
with  eager  trembling  fingers,  read  it  swiftly  and 
glared  with  joy,  his  big  glistening  eyes  nearly 
leaving  their  sockets.  Then  he  whirled  around  in 
his  chair,  and  as  his  eye  lit  on  Ethel,  he  laughed, 
and  in  a  harsh  queer  voice  he  cried, 

"Veil?  Now  you  see?  I'm  rich  alreatty,  I'm 
veil  off !  I  got  the  Zimmerman  contract — see  ?  I 
can  do  vot  I  like !  I  got  it !  I  got  it ! "  He  ca 
pered  in  triumphant  glee,  laughing  again  and  seiz 
ing  her  arms.  ' '  Veil,  vot  you  say  ?  Vy  don 't  you 
speak?  By  Gott,  I  raise  your  salary!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Greesheimer!"  she  cried,  half  laugh 
ing.  "  It 's  simply  too  wonderful  for  words ! ' ' 

"Ha — ha!"  He  still  had  her  by  the  arms. 
"All  you  young  goils  could  love  me  now — eh? — 
you  could  take  an  old  fellah!  Ha-ha-ha!"  And 
the  next  instant,  furious,  she  felt  herself  hugged 
violently,  kissed!  His  lips!  His  fat  soft  body! 
Ugh !  She  dug  her  elbow  into  him  with  a  stifled 
cry  and  wrenched  away.  A  moment  she  turned  on 
him  eyes  ablaze. 

"You  dirty — beastly — "  she  gasped  for  breath, 
then  turned,  and  seizing  her  hat  and  coat  she 
rushed  blindly  from  the  room  and  through  the 
outer  office.  In  the  elevator  crowded  with  men  she 
felt  a  queer  taste  in  her  mouth. 

"That's  blood,"  she  thought.     "Biting  my  lip, 


80  „      HIS   SECOND   WIPE 

am  I—well,  bite  on.  I'm  not  going  to  cry — I'm 
not,  I'm  not — I'll  reach  that  street  if  it  kills  me !" 

Meanwhile  in  his  office  Greesheimer  was  still 
staring,  first  at  the  door  and  then  at  the  window, 
and  upon  his  pudgy  countenance  was  a  glare  of 
utter  astonishment  and  honest  indignation. 

"Mein  Gott!"  he  exploded.  "I  give  her  a  hug 
— a  hug  like  a  daughter — and  off  like  a  rocket — 
off  she  goes!"  And  in  Yiddish  and  in  Hebrew 
and  Eussian  and  American,  Greesheimer  ex 
pressed  himself  as  he  strode  swiftly  up  and  down. 
For  seven  years  without  a  break  he  had  "kept  a 
goil"  more  fascinating  to  his  taste  than  any  fe 
male  in  New  York.  Her  name  was  Sadie,  she 
was  a  model  in  a  dressmaker's  shop  uptown,  and 
she  owned  him  body  and  soul.  Their  marriage 
had  only  been  put  off  until  he  had  bridged  the 
dangerous  time  in  the  launching  of  his  business. 
For  Greesheimer  had  a  mother,  an  old  uncle  and  a 
sister  and  two  small  nephews  to  support.  But  this 
Zimmerman  contract,  "Gott  sei  danke!"  would 
clear  the  way  for  marriage  at  once.  And  as  that 
glorious  vision,  of  relatives  all  radiant  and  Sadie 
flushed  and  joyous  leaping  into  his  embrace,  had 
burst  upon  his  dazzled  soul,  his  glance  had  lit  on 
his  employe,  and  he  had  hugged  her  in  his  joy! 
And  she — 

Again  did  Greesheimer  swear!    He  felt  hot 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  81 

angry  blushes  rise.  And  later  at  his  telephone  he 
was  saying  to  a  woman  friend  who  ran  an  employ 
ment  bureau, 

"I  got  to  have  a  stenographer.  See?  Und  I 
don't  vant  a  goil,  I  vant  a  man — a  smart  young 
fellah,  y 'understand.  .  .  .  Jewish?  Yes!  You 
betcher !  No  more  Christian  goils  in  mine !  Dey 
have  rotten  minds — plain  rotten  minds ! '  ' 

But  to  Ethel,  walking  blindly,  no  such  explana 
tion  occurred.  She  could  still  feel  that  body,  those 
greedy  lips  and  clutching  hands,  and  out  of  her 
disgust  and  rage  emerged  another  feeling  which 
grew  like  a  load  on  her  shoulders,  sagging  her 
spirit  and  crushing  her  down. 

"Joe  was  right.  It  was  only  my  face.  That 
beast  was  only  waiting!  ...  I  wonder  if  they're 
all  like  that?  Probably  not.  But  how  can  I  tell 
the  sheep  from  the  goats?  I  thought  I  could.  I 
thought  I  knew  how  to  handle  myself — I  thought 
I  knew  how  to  get  on  in  this  town!  But  I  don't, 
it  seems — I  've  done  nothing  at  all !  I  Ve  just  been 
a  little  fool!  .  .  .  And  New  York  is  like  that !" 

She  glared  at  the  city  around  her,  at  its  tall, 
hard  unfriendly  walls,  the  jangling  trolleys  down 
below,  the  trucks  and  drays  and  the  crowds  rush 
ing  by  her.  For  all  their  hurry,  some  of  the 
men  shot  glances  at  Ethel  that  made  her  burn. 
One  tall  thin  man  even  stopped  and  turned  and 


82  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

she  felt  his  look  travel  right  down  to  her  toes! 
She  walked  on  and  on  with  her  bare  fists  clenched. 
She  had  left  her  gloves  in  the  office.  Go  back  for 
them  I  No !  Nor  to  any  office,  nor  any  man ! 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will,  I'll  go  back  to  Joe — and  hear 
him  say,  'I  told  you  so.'  " 

She  reached  the  apartment  faint  and  sick.  Joe 
had  not  come  home,  thank  goodness.  She  went 
to  her  room  and  to  her  bed,  and  had  a  good  cry, 
which  relieved  her  a  little.  And  so,  after  an  hour 
or  two,  looking  steadily  up  at  the  ceiling,  she  de 
cided  that  after  a  few  days'  rest  she  would  go  to 
all  three  of  those  bureaus  and  say,  "I'm  in  the 
market  still,  if  you  please,  but  only  for  a  woman 
boss." 

But  later,  as  she  was  dressing  for  dinner,  her 
eye  was  caught  by  the  photograph  of  her  sister 
Amy.  And  the  face  appeared  to  her  suddenly  so 
strong  and  wise  with  its  knowledge  of  life.  She 
remembered  Amy's  smiles  at  all  new  "move 
ments"  and  ideas  and  work  for  women.  She 
seemed  to  be  smiling  now,  with  a  good-humoured 
pitying  air,  and  to  be  saying, 

"Now  will  you  believe  me?  It  isn't  what  you 
say  to  men,  it's  how  you  look  and  what  you  wear." 

And  Ethel  stared  at  it  and  frowned,  in  a  dis 
illusioned,  questioning  way. 


CHAPTER  VII 

JOE  did  not  say,  "I  told  you  so." 
It  was  after  eight  that  evening  when  he 
came  home  from  his  office,  and  she  was  annoyed  at 
the  delay,  for  she  wanted  to  have  her  confession 
of  failure  over  and  done  with.  As  she  waited 
restlessly,  she  envied  him  his  business  life.  How 
much  simpler  everything  was  for  a  man!  Her 
nerves  were  on  edge.  Why  didn't  he  come?  At 
last  she  heard  his  key  in  the  door  and  sharply 
pulled  herself  together.  "How  I  detest  him!" 
she  thought  to  herself. 

"Hello,  Ethel."  His  voice  from  the  hallway 
had  a  gruff  and  tired  sound ;  but  a  moment  later 
when  he  came  in,  it  was  with  his  usual  friendly 
smile.  "Sorry  I  kept  you  waiting.  I've  had  a 
mean  day  at  the  office. ' ' 

"So  have  I,"  said  Ethel,  and  with  a  frown  she 
plunged  right  in.  The  sooner  this  was  over  the 
better.  But  when  she  had  finished  and  looked 
up,  she  detected  no  triumph  on  his  face.  He  was 
watching  her  so  queerly. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  ought  to  be  sorry,  I  sup 
pose — but  I  can't  exactly  say  I  am." 

83 


84  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

<  <  Why  not  f "  At  her  sharp  challenge  he  grimly 
smiled. 

4 1  Because  this  kind  of  puts  us — in  the  same 
boat — two  of  a  kind." 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded. 
And  then  with  a  rueful  grimace  he  said, 

6 '  Because  I  too  have  bumped  my  head. "  As  at 
that  she  felt  a  swift  little  thrill  of  surprise  and 
liking  for  Joe,  he  continued,  "I've  been  a  fool. 
You  're  always  a  fool  when  you  take  a  chance  and 
aren't  able  to  get  away  with  it.  You're  a  fool — 
because  you  missed  out.  I'm  a  fool — because  / 
missed  out.  We  both  of  us  took  chances.  And  I 
got  very  badly  stung.  We've  got  to  be  poor  for 
a  little  while."  Joe  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
smiled  again.  "I've  dreaded  this.  I've  put  off 
telling  you  for  a  week — I  don 't  like  eating  humble 
pie.  But  it 's  all  right  now,  God  bless  you — we  can 
eat  it  side  by  side." 

"Why,  Joe,  dear,  how  nice!"  she  sighed.  "Go 
on  and  tell  me.  What  will  it  mean?"  He  held 
up  his  hand. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  can't  you?  Let  me  make 
my  little  speech.  I've  made  it  so  many  times  in 
my  mind." 

"All  right,  you  poor  dear,  just  start  right  in." 

"Well,"  said  Joe,  "it  begins  like  this."  And 
his  face  grew  a  little  portentous,  with  humour  and 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  85 

a  deeper  feeling  mingled  awkwardly  together. 
" You've  been  about  as  good  to  me  as  one  fellow 
could  be  to  another.  I  know  what  a  hell  it  must 
have  been,  and  the  stiff  upper  lip  was  all  on  your 
side.  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it,  but — when 
Amy  died  the  life  went  out — of  my  business  too. 
Later  I  got  back  my  nerve,  and  because  my  job 
was  all  I  had  left  I  tried  to  make  it  more  worth 
while.  I've  got  a  few  old  dreams  in  me — I  mean 
I've  always  wanted  to  build  something  better 
than  flats  in  the  Bronx.  So  I — well,  I  took  a 
chance  and  failed.  I'm  in  debt  and  my  only 
chance  to  scrape  through  is  to  cut  down  here  as 
low  as  we  can.  I've  figured  out  our  expenses, 
and—" 

He  walked  for  a  moment.  She  quickly  rose, 
went  to  him  and  took  his  arm  and  said, 

"A  very  fine  speech.  We'll  go  in  to  our  dinner 
now — and  later  we'll  get  a  pencil  and  paper,  and 
we  won't  stop  until  everything's  right." 

There  came  for  Ethel  busy  days. 

The  next  morning  she  went  to  the  nursery  and 
told  the  nurse  she  would  have  to  go.  "I'm 
sorry,"  she  added  and  then  stopped  short,  startled 
by  the  woman's  face.  The  way  her  eyes  went  to 
Susette  made  something  leap  in  Ethel's  breast. 
The  nurse  wheeled  sharply : 


86  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"What  have  I  done?  What's  the  matter  with 
me?"  Her  voice  was  strained. 

"Nothing.  There  has  been  nothing  at  all." 
Ethel  found  it  hard  to  speak.  "You've  been — 
quite  wonderful  with  Susette.  The  trouble  is  that 
Mr.  Lanier  has  found  he  must  cut  expenses." 

"Oh.  Then  why  am  I  the  one?"  She  broke 
off  and  grew  rigid,  but  her  thought  struck  into 
Ethel 's  mind :  « '  Why  am  I  the  one  ?  Why  don 't 
you  go  ?  What  good  are  you  here  ? ' ' 

"I'm  sorry,"  Ethel  repeated.  "I  wish  I  could 
keep  you,  but  I  can't.  I'll  have  to  take  care  of 
Susette  myself — " 

"You?" 

"Yes,  and  you'll  have  to  teach  me  how." 

"I  won't!" 

"You  mean  you'll  let  her  suffer  because  you 
haven 't  shown  me  things  ?  No,  no,  I  'm  sure  you  '11 
be  sensible.  You'll  stay  on  a  few  days  and  help 
me,  and  meanwhile  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  find  you  a 
good  position.  I  only  hope  I  can  get  you  back 
again  in  the  autumn.  You  see  it  may  only  be  for 
a  time. ' '  She  went  to  the  nurse,  who  now  had  her 
arms  about  the  child.  "  I  'm  so  sorry.  Eemember 
I  want  you  back. ' ' 

There  were  tears  in  Ethel's  eyes  as  she  left  the 
nursery.  "Whew!"  She  went  into  her  own 
small  room.  "I  wonder  if  I'll  ever  feel  like  that 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  87 

about  a  child  V '  She  stared  a  moment  and  added, 
1  i That  was  real  enough,  poor  thing.7'  She  drew 
a  resolute  breath.  "Well,  no  use  in  feeling  like 
a  criminal,  my  dear.  Now  for  the  cook  and  the 
waitress. " 

She  rather  took  satisfaction  in  that,  for  she  had 
disliked  both  of  them  keenly.  She  gave  them 
until  the  end  of  the  week,  and  in  the  meantime 
telegraphed  for  Emily  Giles,  who  for  over  five 
years  had  helped  her  keep  house  for  her  father  at 
home.  Of  medium  height,  spare,  thin  chested  and 
thin  lipped,  her  hair  already  streaked  with  grey, 
Emily  had  been  less  a  servant  than  a  grimly  de 
voted  friend.  Since  Ethel's  departure,  she  had 
been  head-waitress  at  the  small  hotel. 

"Emily  will  come,"  thought  Ethel,  "unless 
she's  dead  or  paralysed." 

And  Emily  came. 

"Well,  Miss  Ethel,  here  I  am,"  she  said  on  her 
arrival.  She  said,  "Miss  Ethel"  quite  naturally, 
although  she  had  always  said  "Ethel"  before. 
But  her  tone  made  it  sound  like,  "Well,  kid,  here 
I  am.  Now  let 's  see  what  kind  of  a  mess  it  is  you 
want  me  to  get  you  out  of." 

With  the  aid  of  a  book  entitled,  "How  To  Live 
Well  On  Little,"  together  they  puzzled  and  con 
trived. 

"The  things  that  have  gone  on  in  this  kitchen," 


88  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Emily  muttered  more  than  once,  as  her  sharp 
grey  eyes  peered  here  and  there,  now  into  drawers 
and  closets,  now  at  the  many  unpaid  bills. 
"When  that  cook  of  yours  wasn't  grafting  she 
must  have  been  getting  drunk  on  your  wine." 
As  the  record  was  unfolded  of  years  of  careless 
extravagance,  Ethel  would  frown  and  turn  away, 
for  it  seemed  disloyal  to  pry  so  deep.  Poor  Amy 
was  dead  and  buried. 

.With  Emily  she  went  marketing,  and  they  beat 
down  and  bullied  mankind.  Emily  was  so  good 
at  that.  And  at  home  they  worked  out  a  schedule 
of  housekeeping  on  a  rigidly  economical  scale, 
dividing  the  work  between  them.  All  this  was 
rather  pleasant.  The  trouble  came  in  the  nurs 
ery,  where  more  than  once  the  face  of  the  stricken 
woman  there  made  it  hard  to  keep  one's  mind 
keen  and  clear  for  all  the  intricate  details  of  the 
careful  mothering  in  this  room,  from  which  barely 
a  sound  had  ever  gone  out  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
Amy's  home. 

But  it  was  soon  over.  The  nurse  had  taken  her 
departure  and  Ethel  had  moved  to  the  nursery. 
And  now  the  routine  of  her  day  brought  such  a 
change  in  Ethel's  life  as  deeply  affected  her  future 
course — though  at  first  she  had  but  little  time  to 
stop  for  self -analysis.  At  five  in  the  morning  she 
was  roused  by  the  low,  sweet  chirrup  of  Susette, 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  89 

who  was  peering  over  the  edge  of  the  crib.  And 
her  day  from  that  time  on  was  filled  with  a  suc 
cession  of  little  tasks,  which  at  first  puzzled  and 
wearied  her,  made  her  often  anxious  and  cross, 
but  then  attracted  her  more  and  more.  What  a 
change  from  the  month  before,  from  Mr.  Grees- 
heimer  to  Susette!  She  became  engrossed  in 
the  washing  and  dressing  and  feeding  of  her  tiny 
charge.  Anxiously  she  watched  Susette  for  the 
slightest  sign  of  illness ;  and  in  this  watching  she 
grew  to  know  the  meaning  of  certain  looks  and 
gestures,  baby  talk.  Susette  became  a  person, 
wee  but  very  intimate. 

In  the  park  on  those  lovely  days  of  May,  Ethel 
liked  to  feel  herself  a  part  of  the  small  world  of 
nurses  and  mothers  who  chatted  or  sewed  while 
children  played  and  motor  cars  went  purring  by. 
There  were  little  distractions ;  for  Susette  was  a 
sociable  creature,  and  the  small  friends  she  dis 
covered  brought  Ethel  into  conversation  with  the 
women  who  had  them  in  charge.  Several  of  the 
mothers  were  French — very  French  in  the  way 
they  dressed,  in  the  way  they  sewed,  in  their  quick 
gestures,  shrugs  and  smiles  and  their  pretty, 
broken  English.  They  lent  a  piquant  novelty  to 
motherhood  in  Ethel's  eyes. 

At  times  she  thought  of  Amy.  Why  had  Amy 
missed  all  this?  How  had  she  been  able  to  keep 


90  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

away  from  this  adorable  child  of  hers?  Ethel 
saw  in  the  windows  of  shops  the  most  tempting 
garments  for  small  girls.  And  Amy  had  had 
money  to  spend!  Susette's  wardrobe  was  " sim 
ply  pathetic  I"  And  often,  sitting  in  the  Park 
and  watching  on  the  road  nearby  the  endless  pro 
cession  of  automobiles  and  the  women  like  Amy 
so  daintily  clad,  and  puzzling  and  remembering 
innumerable  little  things  from  her  first  gay 
month  in  town — in  Ethel's  mind  the  picture  of  the 
sister  she  had  adored  began  to  change  a  little,  and 
to  lose  its  hold  upon  her.  Amy  beautiful,  indolent 
toward  Susette  and  the  household;  Amy  tense, 
with  a  jealous,  vigilant  light  in  her  eyes,  when  it 
was  a  matter  of  Joe  and  her  love  or  the  money 
so  passionately  desired. 

But  these  recollections  she  would  dismiss  with 
excuses  for  her  sister.  "  There  are  two  kinds  of 
women,"  Ethel  sagely  told  herself.  " Mothers 
and  wives.  And  she  was  a  wife.  It  may  be  I'm 
a  mother."  And  little  by  little,  in  spite  of  her 
self,  her  worship  of  her  sister  changed  to  a  pity 
ing  tolerance.  The  question,  '  '  Shall  I  ever  be  like 
that?" — once  so  full  of  eagerness — had  already 
been  answered  unconsciously.  "Poor  Amy,  she's 
dead.  She  lived  her  life.  I'm  going  to  live  an 
other." 

Just  what  life  it  was  to  be  was  as  unsettled  as 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  91 

before.  For  as  she  grew  used  to  this  mothering, 
the  old  adventurous  hunger  for  life  welled  up 
again  within  her.  For  long  periods  she  forgot  the 
child  and  sat  frowning  into  space,  her  mind  grop 
ing  restlessly  for  ways  and  means  to  find  herself 
and  get  friends  of  her  own,  independence,  work 
and  gaiety,  a  chance  to  grow  and  "be  somebody 
here ! ' '  She  had  her  angry,  baffled  moods. 

But  from  these  Susette  would  bring  her  back. 
"What's  your  life  to  be,  you  poor  little  dear? 
And  if  you  don't  worry,  why  should  I?"  And 
resolutely  she  would  turn  to  the  small,  absorbing 
life  of  the  child. 

This  went  on  for  many  months.  It  changed  her 
feeling  toward  the  town,  for  now  she  had  a  foot 
hold  here.  It  changed  her  feeling  toward  Amy, 
whose  picture  had  begun  to  blur.  But  that  queer 
sensation  of  intimacy,  of  being  in  her  sister's 
place,  was  even  deeper  than  before.  For  now  she 
was  mothering  Amy's  child — her  child  and  her 
husband. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FOE  a  time  she  had  seen  little  of  Joe.  She 
had  been  absorbed  in  her  new  work;  and 
Joe,  in  his  business  troubles.  But  as  he  began  to 
see  light  ahead,  again  he  took  notice  of  things  at 
home;  and  rather  to  his  own  surprise  he  enjoyed 
the  change  that  had  been  made.  The  simpler 
ways  appealed  to  him.  He  and  Emily  got  on  fa 
mously.  And  he  began  to  notice  Susette,  to  come 
home  early  now  and  then,  in  time  to  see  her  take 
her  bath  or  to  sit  on  the  floor  and  build  houses  of 
blocks.  He  knew  about  building  houses,  and  he 
could  do  fascinating  things  which  made  his  small 
daughter  stare  at  him  in  grg#e'  admiration. 

"How  dear  he  is  with  her,"  Ethel  thought. 

Although  she  was  barely  aware  of  the  fact,  her 
own  new  tenderness  for  the  child  had  tightened 
the  bonds  between  her  and  its  father.  His  blunt, 
affectionate  kindliness  appealed  to  her  often  in  a 
way  that  even  brought  little  qualms  of  doubt. 
She  would  look  at  Joe  occasionally  in  a  thought 
ful,  questioning  manner. 

He  stayed  home  again  in  the  evenings  now ;  and 
while  she  sat  at  her  sewing,  often  he  would  look 
up  from  his  paper  or  his  work  to  make  some  brief 

92 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  93 

remark  to  her;  and  the  conversation  thus  begun 
would  somehow  ramble  on  and  on  while  his  work 
lay  forgotten.  But  almost  always,  unknown  to 
them  both,  the  spirit  of  Amy  was  in  the  room,  and 
the  influence  of  her  memory  was  shown  in  Joe's 
attitude  toward  his  home.  For  in  spite  of  his 
enjoyment  of  the  simpler  regime,  he  revealed  a 
feeling  of  guiltiness  at  not  being  able  to  give  to 
Ethel  the  easy  lot  he  had  given  his  wife.  As  busi 
ness  improved  he  began  to  suggest  getting  back 
a  nurse  and  a  waitress.  And  it  was  all  that  Ethel 
could  do  to  dissuade  him. 

"His  idea  of  being  nice  to  a  woman,"  she  told 
herself  impatiently,  "is  to  give  her  expensive 
things,  and  above  all  keep  her  idle."  She  did  not 
add,  "Amy  taught  him  that."  But  it  was  in  the 
back  of  her  mind. 

He  often  talked  of  his  business.  He  tried  to 
explain  to  her  the  details  of  speculative  building, 
real  estate  values  and  the  like.  And  listening  and 
watching  his  face,  she  felt  his  force  and  vitality, 
his  doggedness,  the  fight  in  him.  She  recalled 
Amy's  eager  faith  in  Joe  as  a  man  who  was  "sim 
ply  bound  to  make  money."  And  at  times  she 
said  to  herself,  "What  a  pity."  Still,  it  was  all 
rather  puzzling.  For  his  talk  of  the  growth  of 
the  city,  his  view  of  its  mighty  pulsing  life,  rest 
less,  heaving,  leaping  on,  gripped  her  more  than 


94  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

ever  before.  And  moreover,  now  that  Amy  was 
dead,  Ethel  soon  began  to  feel  another  Joe  emerg 
ing  out  of  some  period  long  ago.  With  a  new  and 
curious  eagerness  to  find  in  him  what  her  sister 
had  never  known  (an  eagerness  she  would  have 
disclaimed  with  the  utmost  indignation),  she  be 
gan  to  probe  into  Joe's  past.  And  in  answer  to 
her  questions  he  threw  out  hints  of  old  ideals -in 
which  the  making  of  money  had  played  only  a 
second  part.  He  had  meant  to  be  an  architect, 
a  builder  of  another  kind.  Instead  of  putting  up 
"junk  in  the  Bronx, "  he  had  meant  to  do  some 
thing  big  and  new,  something  bold  and  very 
French,  "to  make  these  infernal  New  Yorkers  sit 
up  and  open  their  cold  grey  eyes."  At  times  he 
rather  thrilled  her  with  hints  of  his  early  bachelor 
life  in  New  York  and  Paris,  his  student  days. 

About  this  time,  one  evening,  he  brought  his 
partner  home  to  dinner,  but  the  experiment 
proved  even  more  of  a  failure  than  it  had  in  the 
past.  Nourse  made  Ethel  feel  as  before  his  surly, 
jealous  dislike  of  her  presence  in  Joe's  home. 
And  Ethel's  hostility  redoubled.  She  recalled 
what  Amy  had  told  her  of  his  tiresome  worship  of 
work,  its  routine  and  its  dull  detail.  No  wonder 
Joe 's  ideals  had  died,  with  such  a  man  in  his  office. 

"What  a  pity  you're  his  partner,"  her  manner 
plainly  said  to  him,  for  she  was  not  good  at  hiding 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  95 

dislikes.  And  to  that  his  gloomy  eyes  rejoined, 
"What  a  damned  shame  if  you  were  his  wife." 

But  Nourse  did  not  come  again.  And  with 
business  dropped  out  of  their  talk,  she  and  Joe 
turned  to  other  things — small  happenings  of  the 
household,  amusing  incidents  of  the  day,  and  little 
problems  to  be  solved.  They  were  well  into  the 
summer  by  now,  and  Susette  ought  to  go  to  the 
seashore.  They  began  to  discuss  seaside  hotels, 
and  chose  a  place  along  the  Sound.  It  was  de 
cided  that  Emily  should  stay  here  to  look  after 
Joe,  and  that  he  should  run  up  for  his  week-ends. 
In  the  meantime,  as  his  business  improved,  he 
began  to  bring  Ethel  little  surprises,  candy  or 
spring  flowers,  and  to  take  her  out  in  his  car  at 
night.  They  went  to  the  theatre  several  times. 
And  everything  which  was  said  or  done  upon  such 
occasions  gave  Ethel  food  for  thinking. 

At  the  seashore,  with  Susette  on  the  beach,  hour 
after  hour,  she  thought  about  Joe  and  about  her 
self.  This  thinking  was  long  and  curious.  It 
was  confused,  barely  conscious  at  times,  all  min 
gled  with  the  long  bright  waves  that  came  rolling 
in  from  the  shining  sea.  The  picture  of  her  sis 
ter's  face  kept  rising  up  before  her  there — of  Amy 
in  her  bedroom  good-humouredly  talking  and 
smiling,  and  teaching  Ethel  how  to  get  on ;  of  Amy 
with  her  husband,  throwing  swift,  vigilant  glances 


96  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

at  him,  kissing  him,  nestling  in  his  arms.  In  her 
thinking  Ethel  grew  hot  and  cold,  with  jealousy, 
swift  self-reproach  and  a  new,  alarming  tender 
ness.  She  thought  of  Joe,  of  his  every  look,  his 
smile  and  the  tones  of  his  gruff  voice;  of  Joe 
grief-stricken  and  half  crazed,  of  Joe  awakening, 
coming  back.  Again  with  a  warm  rush  of  feel 
ings,  not  unmingled  with  dismay,  she  would  go 
over  in  her  mind  their  talks  and  the  queer,  almost 
guilty  expression  that  had  often  come  in  his  eyes. 
For  Amy  had  always  been  in  the  room. 

For  this  thinking,  fresh  fuel  was  given  by  Joe's 
weekly  visits  here.  There  was  not  much  talk  of 
Amy  now,  her  name  had  subtly  dropped  away,  but 
Ethel  could  feel  it  behind  the  talk.  "It  would 
always  be  there  I"  she  would  cry  to  herself. 
' '  Well,  and  why  not  1 9 '  she  would  demand.  '  <  Why 
be  such  a  jealous  cat?  Would  you  let  that  hold 
you  back  V9  It  was  all  so  involved,  this  Amy  part, 
with  EthePs  own  earlier  visions  of  happiness  and 
a  love  of  her  own.  Was  this  really  love — this 
queer,  leaping  feeling,  up  and  down,  hot  and  cold, 
uncertain,  tense,  unhappy,  hungry,  undecided? 
"Oh,  if  I  could  only  make  up  my  mind!" 
When  with  Joe,  she  had  many  moods.  In  some 
she  grew  resentful  toward  him  for  forcing  this 
upon  her.  But  soon  she  would  grow  repentant. 
Her  manner,  from  cool  friendliness,  would  change 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  97 

in  a  few  moments ;  and  her  eyes  would  grow  ab 
sorbed,  attentive,  now  to  Joe  and  now  to  herself, 
grave,  wistful,  sad,  and  then  suddenly  gay — 
though  they  only  talked  of  little  things,  of  Susette, 
the  beach,  the  city,  the  coming  winter,  household 
plans,  his  work,  half  spoken  aspirations.  Any 
one  watching  them  in  these  talks  might  have 
thought  she  was  his  wife. 

Again  came  that  disturbing  sense  of  intimate 
relationship  to  her  sister  who  was  dead.  "I'm 
stepping  into  Amy's  shoes."  But  this  feeling  be 
gan  to  be  left  behind.  It  was  back  in  the  past ; 
she  was  looking  on.  One  day,  when  Susette  had 
bumped  her  head  and  her  aunt  was  comforting  her, 
suddenly  in  a  revealing  flash  came  the  thought, 
"I  love  you,  oh,  so  hard,  my  sweet!  But  I  want 
another  one  all  my  own!" 

When  in  September  she  and  Susette  went  back 
to  Joe  in  the  city,  all  this  grew  more  intense  and 
clear.  For  he  would  not  give  her  much  longer 
now;  she  saw  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind.  She 
felt  his  strength  and  tenderness,  his  hunger  for 
her  growing.  Sometimes  it  was  frightening,  the 
power  he  was  gaming.  A  touch  of  his  hand  and 
she  would  grow  cold.  One  evening  when  she  had 
a  headache,  Joe  bent  over  and  kissed  her. 

"Good-night,"  he  said,  and  left  the  room — left 
her  burning,  trembling.  She  pressed  both  hands 


98  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

tight  to  her  cheeks,  pressed  the  hot  tears  from  her 
eyes. 

At  other  times,  she  told  herself,  "Yes,  I'm 
going  to  marry  him.  But  there 's  nothing  to  be  so 
excited  about — or  scared  like  this.  I  know  him 
now,  I  know  just  what  he  is  and  what  he  is  not. 
He  is  not  a  good  many  things  I  had  dreamed  of, 
but  he's  so  dear  and  kind  and  safe.  And  I  want 
to  have  children. ' '  Gravely  wondering,  she  would 
look  ahead.  "You're  no  longer  a  child,  my  dear. 
Be  strong  and  sensible.  This  is  real.  ...  It's 
getting  rather  cold  tonight.  I  must  run  in  and 
see  if  Susette  is  warm." 

She  still  felt  Amy's  presence.  Out  of  the  vari 
ous  rooms  certain  pictures,  chairs  and  vases 
forced  themselves  upon  her  attention.  For  some 
time  past  she  had  disliked  them.  It  seemed  to  her 
at  moments  as  though  she  could  not  have  them 
here. 

She  knew  what  they  were  waiting  for  now.  It 
was  nearly  the  end  of  October,  and  the  day  which 
both  dreaded  was  nearly  at  hand,  the  anniversary 
of  her  death.  They  spoke  not  a  word  to  each 
other  about  it,  except  once  when  Joe  said  gruffly, 

"There's  a  bad  time  coming  for  both  of  us. 
Let 's  try  not  to  be  morbid  about  it. ' ' 

As  it  drew  nearer  she  felt  she  must  speak.  She 
felt  how  this  unspoken  name  of  her  sister  would 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  99 

keep  rising,  rising,  between  them  for  the  rest  of 
their  lives.  It  was  uncanny,  it  was  like  a  spell, 
the  force  of  this  unspoken  name ;  and  she  thought, 
"I  must  break  it!7' 

And  yet  she  did  not  speak.  She  had  little  op 
portunity,  for  she  saw  very  little  of  Joe  that  week. 
When  the  dreaded  night  arrived,  he  did  not  come 
home  until  very  late.  From  her  room  she  heard 
him  come  in,  and  presently  by  the  silence  she  knew 
he  had  settled  himself  to  work.  She  barely  slept, 
rose  early  and  dressed  herself  with  a  resolute  air. 
But  already  Joe  had  gone. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning.  With  Susette  she 
went  to  a  florist 's  shop  and  had  the  child  pick  out 
some  flowers.  Then  they  went  out  to  Amy's 
grave.  And  a  moment  came  to  Ethel  there,  an 
overwhelming  moment,  when  something  seemed 
bursting  up  in  herself  and  crying  passionately, 

"leant!" 

But  a  little  miracle  happened.  For  Susette, 
who  was  only  three  years  old  and  understood 
nothing  of  all  this,  took  half  the  purple  asters 
from  Amy's  grave,  and  turning  back  confidingly 
she  put  the  rest  in  Ethel's  hand — and  then  saw  a 
sparrow  and  chased  it,  and  laughed  merrily  as  it 
flew  away. 

At  night  when  Joe  came  home,  although  he  did 
not  speak  of  the  flowers,  she  knew  that  he  too  had 


100  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

been  at  the  grave.  He  appeared  relieved,  the  ten 
sion  gone. 

"Now  is  the  time  to  speak  of  her."  And  Ethel 
looked  up  with  a  resolute  frown.  .  .  .  But  once 
again  she  put  it  off.  Soon  they  were  talking 
naturally. 

Weeks  passed,  and  the  memory  of  that  day 
dropped  swiftly  back  behind  them.  And  there 
came  a  night  when  Joe,  close  by  her  side,  had  been 
talking  slowly  for  some  time,  his  voice  husky, 
strained  and  low,  and  she  had  been  sitting  very 
still.  She  turned  at  last  with  a  quick  little  smile, 
said, 

"Yes,  Joe,  I'll — marry  you — and — oh,  I'm  very 
happy!  Please  go  now,  dear!  Please  go — go!" 

And  when  he  had  gone  she  still  sat  very  still. 

From  that  night  the  name  of  her  sister  was  not 
spoken  between  them — was  not  spoken  for  nearly 
two  years. 

She  grew  used  to  being  held  in  Joe's  arms,  to 
his  kisses  and  to  his  voice  that  had  changed,  to  the 
things  he  said  and  the  way  his  eyes  looked  into 
hers.  That  hunger,  it  was  always  there,  and 
growing,  always  growing!  The  feeling  she'd 
never  had  before,  that — "We're  to  be  parts  of  one 
another!" — deepened,  thrilled  her  with  its  depth, 
dazzled  and  confused  her  mind. 


HIS   SEQOND  ,  WIPE,  101 

One  day  she  went  to  Amy's  room,  and  slowly 
began  looking  over  the  clothes.  From  the  closet 
and  the  drawers,  in  a  careful,  tender  way  she 
took  the  shimmering  little  gowns  and  dainty  hats 
and  slippers,  silk  stockings,  filmy  night-gowns— 
and  packed  them  into  boxes.  All  were  to  be  given 
away.  "I  couldn't!"  Her  throat  contracting, 
she  turned  away  with  a  sharp  pang  of  pity  and 
of  jealousy  and  of  a  deep,  deep  tenderness. 

She  lavished  her  love  upon  Amy's  child.  What 
adorable  little  garments  she  bought  for  Susette, 
those  autumn  days.  And  at  night,  bending  over 
her  cradle,  Ethel  would  whisper  to  her,  "Oh,  I'm 
dreaming,  dreaming,  dear!"  And  to  Susette  this 
was  a  huge  joke,  and  they  would  laugh  at  it  like 
mad.  '  *  Oh,  my  precious  loved  one !  What  a  fine, 
happy  life  we'll  lead!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

THEY  were  married  early  in  December. 
There  were  no  preparations  to  be  made,  for 
a  wedding  is  nothing  without  friends,  and  they  had 
none  but  Amy's;  and  though  Joe  said  nothing  to 
Ethel  about  it,  she  knew  he  had  not  sent  them 
word.  "It's  better,"  she  thought.  She  herself 
wrote  to  a  few  girl  friends,  but  they  were  scat 
tered  all  over  the  country.  No  one  of  them  would 
be  coming  East.  And  at  times  she  felt  very 
lonely.  With  memories  of  weddings  at  home  and 
of  her  dreams  for  one  of  her  own,  which  she 
had  planned  so  often,  she  begged  Joe  to  let  her 
be  married  in  church,  and  Joe  gave  in  good- 
naturedly.  He  did  not  go  to  the  minister  who 
had  buried  Amy  a  year  before,  but  to  one  who 
had  a  small  Presbyterian  church  on  the  next  street. 
There  he  soon  arranged  to  be  married.  But  then, 
in  his  ignorance  of  such  matters,  Joe  said,  in  his 
blunt,  off-hand  way, 

"I  like  to  settle  these  things  ahead.  So  if 
you'll  just  name  the  amount — "  he  stopped.  For 
the  clergyman  straightened  up  as  though  at  an 
insult.  Joe  reddened.  "Look  here,"  he  blurted, 
" I  didn't  mean—  " 

102 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  103 

"Oh,  that's  all  right."  The  other  man  was 
smiling  queerly.  "How  long  have  you  been  in 
New  York?"  he  asked. 

"Nine  years." 

"Ever  been  inside  of  a  church?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  I  have." 

"Then  why  do  you  want  to  get  married  here?" 

Joe  smiled  frankly.    "The  bride's  idea." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  the  preacher.  A  glint  of 
humour  came  into  his  eyes.  "You  asked  me  what 
it  would  cost  to  get  married.  If  you'll  go  down 
to  City  Hall,  it  will  cost  you  exactly  two  dollars. 
But  if  you  care  to  be  married  here — well,  there's 
an  old  scrub-woman  I  know  who  for  nine  years 
every  Sunday  has  come  to  this  church  and  put  a 
quarter  in  the  plate  to  keep  this  institution  going 
for  you.  And  if  you  care  to  use  it  now  it  will  cost 
you  just  what  it  has  cost  her.  Figure  it  out  and 
send  me  a  check,  or  else  go  down  to  City  Hall." 

"I'll  pay  up,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

At  home  he  told  Ethel  about  it  with  keen  relish 
at  the  joke  on  himself.  And  Ethel  smiled  rather 
tensely  and  said, 

"Don't  let's  make  a  joke  of  it,  dear.  Let's 
make  it  as  much  of  a  one  as  we  can." 

But  there  was  little  or  nothing  to  do.  And  the 
next  afternoon  in  church  it  felt  so  queer  and  un 
real  to  her  as  she  stood  with  Joe  in  front  of  the 


104  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

pulpit.  Behind  her  in  the  shadowy  place  were 
only  Susette  and  Emily  and  the  building  super 
intendent's  wife.  No  long  rows  of  faces — caring. 
Only  the  hard  murmur  of  the  busy  street  outside. 
No  excited  whispers  here,  no  music  and  no  flowers, 
no  bridesmaids  and  no  wedding  gown.  .  .  . 

"I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife." 

Then  what? 

She  took  Susette  tight  in  her  arms  for  a  mo 
ment.  Then  Emily — thank  God  for  her! — was 
whispering  fiercely  in  her  ear, 

" It's  going  to  be  all  right,  my  dear!  In  a  min 
ute  you're  going  to  laugh  or  cry!  Laugh!  It's 
better!  Laugh!  .  .  .  That's  right!" 

Joe  had  his  small  car  waiting  outside ;  and  wav 
ing  good-bye  to  Emily,  who  was  taking  Susette  to 
the  park,  they  sped  away  to  the  river  and  off  into 
the  country.  Soon  they  were  talking  excitedly. 

It  was  after  dark  when  they  returned,  and  as 
had  been  already  planned  they  went  to  a  cafe 
to  dine,  a  gay  place  crowded  full  of  people,  music 
throbbing,  voices  humming.  Ethel  wanted  it  like 
that.  She  wanted  to  be  lifted  through.  Joe 
alarmed  her  now.  "Oh,  don't— don't  be  so  con 
siderate  ! "  she  wanted  to  exclaim  to  him.  '  *  What 
good  does  it  do? "  As  they  smiled  at  each  other, 
again  and  again  she  had  to  fight  down  an  impulse 
to  cry — or  shiver.  She  would  bite  her  lips  and 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  105 

turn  away  and  watch  people,  then  turn  quickly 
back  and  start  talking  rapidly. 

At  home,  alone  in  Amy's  room,  she  sat  at  the 
dressing  table  there,  her  movements  swift  and 
feverish.  She  had  often  looked  at  herself  of  late 
in  her  mirror  in  the  nursery,  but  now  she  did  not 
look  into  the  glass.  Her  hands  were  cold.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  she  called  to  Joe. 

And  a  little  later,  on  her  old  bed  by  the  cradle 
in  the  nursery,  she  lay  violently  trembling  and 
staring  intently  up  at  the  ceiling. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  asked.  "Whose 
fault  was  it?  Mine!"  With  a  strange  thrill  of 
fear  and  repulsion,  she  clenched  her  teeth  and 
held  herself  until  the  fit  of  trembling  passed. 
"Is  this  real,  Ethel  Knight?  Do  you  mean  to  say 
this  is  what  love  is — just  this,  just  this!"  She 
shook  her  head  and  bit  her  lips.  She  asked,  "Am 
I  tied  to  this  man  for  life !  I  am  not !  I  can 't  be ! 
This  isn't  real — it  isn't  me !" 

The  night  was  a  blur,  like  a  bad  dream.  Once 
she  remembered  jumping  up  and  quickly  locking 
the  nursery  door.  But  that  was  the  beginning  of 
a  return  to  her  senses.  "I  needn't  have  done 
that, ' '  she  thought.  '  '  It  wasn  't  fair.  It  was  even 
rather  insulting. ' '  This  thought  made  her  quieter. 
And  later,  as  the  night  wore  on,  a  feeling  of  hav- 


106  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

ing  been  unjust  and  foolish  little  by  little  emerged 
from  the  chaos  and  began  to  steady  her.  But 
again  the  old  dismay  and  dread  and  loathing 
would  come  back  with  a  rush.  All  at  once  her 
body  from  head  to  foot  would  grow  cold  and  rigid. 
And  the  power  which  a  year  ago  with  her  sister 
she  had  excitedly  sensed  as  the  driving  force  of 
this  whole  town,  now  loomed  brutal,  savage !  The 
thought  rose  suddenly  in  her  mind,  "Amy.  She 
was  his  wife!  Five  years!"  And  then  in  a  re 
vealing  flash,  "Her  love  was  like  that!  She 
taught  him!" 

With  a  bound  that  feeling  of  intimacy  with  her 
sister  leaped  to  a  climax — burned ! 

It  was  long  till  she  could  quiet  herself.  She 
had  to  do  it  by  walking  the  floor.  .  .  .  Thank 
heaven  for  the  daylight  and  the  small,  round  face 
of  Susette  peering  over  the  edge  of  the  crib. 
Soon  she  had  the  child  in  her  bed  and  they  were 
looking  at  pictures. 

Later  she  went  back  to  her  husband.  It  cost 
her  no  slight  effort  of  will,  and  it  was  a  relief  to 
find  him  gone.  On  her  dresser  he  had  left  a  note : 

"I  am  sorry,  dear — it  was  all  my  fault.  I  was 
a  fool — a  clumsy  fool.  But  remember  there  is 
plenty  of  time — and  be  certain  absolutely  that 
everything  will  be  all  right." 

She  read  it  more  than  once  that  day,  and  it 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  107 

helped  her  prepare  for  the  evening.  When  Joe 
came  home  and  took  her  in  his  arms,  she  knew  at 
once  that  he  meant  her  to  feel  there  was  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of. 

"I've  got  to  be  down  at  the  office  tonight,"  was 
all  he  said.  But  in  his  voice,  low,  kind  and  reas 
suring,  like  that  of  a  big  brother,  there  was  a 
promise  which  gave  her  a  thrill  of  gratitude  and 
deep  relief.  With  it  came  some  self-reproach, 
which  caused  her  again  to  struggle,  alone,  and 
then  go  to  Amy's  room  to  sleep.  She  lay  listen 
ing  there  for  hours,  carefully  holding  herself  in 
check.  When  she  heard  his  key  in  the  hall  door, 
she  sharply  stiffened,  held  her  breath.  .  .  .  She 
heard  him  go  into  the  small  guest  room  which  had 
been  hers  a  year  before.  .  .  .  And  then  she  cried 
softly  to  herself.  With  the  blessed  relief  of  it, 
her  love  for  Joe  was  coming  back. 


CHAPTER  X 

ONE  evening  about  two  months  later  Ethel 
was  dressing  for  dinner.  As  usual  they 
were  dining  alone,  but  long  ago  she  had  taken  the 
habit  of  dressing  each  night  as  though  there  were 
people  coming.  Amy  had  taught  her  to  do  that ; 
and  after  the  death  of  her  sister  she  had  always 
made  a  point  of  " keeping  up"  for  Joe's  sake,  al 
though  often  it  had  been  an  effort.  But  it  was  no 
effort  now.  She  had  been  here  for  nearly  an  hour, 
absorbed  in  this  pleasant,  leisurely  art  that  had 
such  a  new  meaning  and  delight.  To  keep  being 
different,  revealing  her  beauty  in  new  ways,  to  see 
if  he'd  notice,  to  laugh  in  his  arms  and  feel  her 
power  over  Joe,  had  brought  back  her  old  zest  for 
pretty  clothes,  and  she  had  been  wearing  all  the 
things  she  had  bought  when  she  first  came  to  town. 
Last  year's  clothes,  for  they  still  smilingly  called 
themselves  "poor,"  although  Joe  was  doing  much 
better  now.  Last  year's  clothes,  and  the  styles 
had  changed,  but  in  ways  which  Joe,  poor  dear, 
was  too  blind  to  notice. 

The  room  in  which  she  was  dressing  had  some 
how  assumed  a  different  air.  Although  in  the 
main  it  was  the  same  as  when  Amy  had  been  here, 

108 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  109 

and  her  picture  was  still  on  Joe 's  chiffonier — still 
subtly  by  degrees  it  had  changed.  Some  of 
Ethel's  clothes  were  lying  about,  her  work-bag 
and  a  book  or  two ;  the  dressing  table  at  which  she 
was  sitting  had  been  covered  in  fresh  chintz,  and 
Ethel's  things  were  on  it.  Joe's  picture  and 
Susette's  were  here,  and  a  droll  little  painted  bird 
was  perched  above  the  mirror. 

As  she  glanced  into  the  glass,  gaily  she  thanked 
herself  for  the  charms  which  she  was  deftly  en 
hancing—in  the  glossy  black  hair,  smooth  and 
sleek,  in  the  flushed  cheeks  and  the  red  of  her  lips 
and  the  gleaming  lights  in  her  brown  eyes.  She 
nodded  approvingly  at  herself. 

"  You  're  a  great  help  to  me,  Mrs.  Lanier." 
In  the  glass  she  could  see  her  husband;  she  felt 
his  glances  from  time  to  time.  This  evening  after 
dinner  they  were  going  out  somewhere.  To  what, 
he  would  not  tell  her.  There  had  been  many  of 
these  small  surprises.  .  .  .  Now  her  pulse  beat 
faster,  for  he  had  come  behind  her.  A  sudden 
bending,  a  quick  laugh,  a  murmur  and  a  silence. 
Then  at  last  he  let  her  go ;  but  as  she  drew  a  deep, 
full  breath  and  shot  a  side  look  up  at  him,  he 
laughed  again,  low,  tensely,  and  bent  over  as 
before. 

Left  alone,  she  smiled  again  into  the  glass.    It 
was  hard  to  believe — too  wonderful — this  amaz- 


110  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

ingly  intimate  feeling,  this  living  with  somebody, 
body  and  soul.  And  what  a  child  she  had  been 
before,  a  child  in  that  solemn  young  resolve  to 
marry  Joe,  this  good,  safe  man,  and  raise  a  large 
family  carefully.  It  had  been  like  a  small  girl 
thinking  of  dolls.  And  like  a  small  girl  she  had 
been  in  her  panic  on  the  night  of  her  wedding,  she 
thought.  How  silly,  ignorant,  funny!  No — she 
frowned — it  had  been  real,  pretty  ugly  while  it 
lasted.  But  like  a  bug-a-boo  it  had  gone.  And 
this  good,  safe  man  had  become  transformed  in 
this  amazing  intimacy  and  had  become  a  wild  de 
light  :  a  man  to  laugh  at,  tease,  provoke,  and  cling 
to,  silent,  in  a  flame ;  a  man  to  mother,  study  out, 
probe  into  deep  with  questions ;  a  man  to  plan  and 
plan  with. 

"This  love  is  to  be  the  love  of  his  life!  It's  to 
make  us  work  and  grow,  make  us  fine  and  awake 
and  alive  to  everything  worth  living  for!  No 
laziness  for  you,  my  dear,  no  soft,  cosy  kitten  life ! 
You're  to  be  a  woman,  a  real  one !  Don't  let  there 
be  any  mistake  about  that ! ' ' 

In  the  other  room  Joe  was  at  his  piano,  and  the 
music  he  was  playing  had  nothing  to  do  with — any 
one  else.  She  did  not  say,  "with  Amy."  She 
frowned  a  little  and  cut  herself  short,  as  she  so 
often  did  in  her  thinking,  these  days,  when  it 
touched  upon  her  sister.  She  could  feel  Amy  here 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  111 

at  so  many  points,  and  she  did  not  want  to  be 
jealous. 

"I  wonder  where  we're  going  tonight. " 
What  was  it  Joe  was  playing!  Music  she  had 
heard  before.  She  did  not  like  to  ask  him  and  so 
betray  her  ignorance.  "I  ought  to  know  this! 
What  is  it?"  she  asked  herself  impatiently. 
"Why,  of  course!  It's  from  'Boheme'!"  She 
smiled  as  she  felt  he  was  playing  to  her.  With 
the  thrill  now  so  familiar,  she  felt  her  power  over 
him.  She  remembered  little  tussles  in  which  she 
had  been  victorious.  They  had  all  been  over  his 
business.  Joe,  the  poor  darling,  had  formed  the 
idea  (she  did  not  say  from  his  first  wife)  that  if 
a  man  is  in  love  with  a  woman  he  must  express 
it  by  loading  her  down  with  things  which  cost  a 
lot  of  money,  that  he  must  work  for  her,  slave  for 
her!  But  Ethel  was  putting  an  end  to  that. 
They  had  taken  back  Susette's  old  nurse,  for  it 
was  unfair  to  one's  husband  to  be  a  child's  slave 
if  there  was  no  need.  But  she  had  refused  to  get 
other  servants.  Emily  Giles  was  still  in  charge, 
and  though  Emily  of  her  own  accord  had  gone  to 
a  shop  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  purchased  caps  and 
aprons,  "the  nattiest  things  this  side  of  France," 
she  wore  them  with  a  genial  air  and  spoke  of  them 
as  "my  uniform."  Ethel  took  care  of  her  own 
room  and  helped  Emily  with  the  cleaning.  She 


112  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

had  kept  expenses  firmly  down,  and  she  had  re 
fused  to  be  loaded  with  gifts.  When  Joe  had 
urged  that  his  affairs  were  going  so  much  better 
now,  she  had  said  in  her  new  decisive  voice : 

"I'm  so  glad  to  hear  it,  my  love,  for  it  simply 
means  you've  no  earthly  excuse  for  staying  late 
at  your  office.  I  don't  mean  I  want  you  to  loaf, 
you  know,"  she  had  gone  on  more  earnestly.  "I 
want  you  to  work  and  do,  oh,  so  much,  all  the 
things  you  dreamed  of  doing — over  there  in  Paris. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  have  you  make  your  business 
a  mere  rush  for  a  lot  of  money  we  don't  need!" 
She  had  gone  to  him  suddenly.  "And  just  now 
I  want  you  so." 

By  these  talks  she  had  already  worked  a  change. 
No  more  hasty  breakfasts  to  let  him  be  off  by 
eight  o'clock.  They  had  breakfasted  later  and 
later  each  day ;  she  had  made  an  affair  of  break 
fast.  And  as  at  last  he  kissed  her  and  tore  him 
self  away  from  his  home,  she  had  smiled  to  herself 
delightedly  at  the  guilty  look  in  his  eyes.  This 
kind  of  thing  would  cause  a  decided  coolness,  no 
doubt,  between  Joe  and  his  partner.  So  much  the 
better,  she  had  thought,  for  she  detested  that  man 
Nourse,  and  in  his  case  she  could  quite  openly 
admit,  "I'm  jealous  of  you  and  your  business  de 
votion!  Your  time  is  coming  soon,  friend  Bill!" 
The  office  was  half  way  uptown,  and  several  times 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  113 

in  the  last  few  weeks  she  had  gone  there  for  Joe 
at  five  o'clock,  and  once  at  four-thirty,  as  though 
by  appointment.  She  chuckled  now  as  she  re 
called  the  black  look  of  his  partner  that  day.  Yes, 
four-thirty  had  been  a  blow ! 

" Where  are  we  going  this  evening?" 

It  was  delightful  to  be  so  free,  she  told  herself 
repeatedly.  Friends?  They  didn't  need  any 
friends.  For  the  present  they  had  each  other — 
enough!  "Yes,  and  for  some  time  to  come!" 
But  there  always  came  to  her  a  little  qualm  of  un 
easiness  when  her  thinking  reached  this  point. 
How  were  friends  to  be  found  in  this  city? 

6  <  Oh,  later— later— later ! ' ' 

And  rising  impatiently  with  a  shrug,  she  went 
into  the  nursery.  The  nurse  had  been  so  glad  to 
get  back  that  most  of  her  old  hostility  toward 
Ethel  had  vanished.  Still  there  were  signs  now 
and  then  of  a  sneer  which  said,  "You'll  soon  be 
paying  no  more  attention  to  this  poor  bairn  than 
her  mother  did  before  you. ' '  And  it  was  as  well 
to  show  the  woman  how  blind  and  ignorant  she 
was — to  make  her  see  the  difference. 

"Boheme"  was  the  surprise  that  night.  It  was 
Ethel's  first  night  at  the  opera.  And  looking 
up  at  the  boxes,  at  the  women  she  had  read  about, 
the  gorgeous  gowns  and  the  jewels  they  wore, 


114  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

and  watching  them  laugh  and  chatter ;  or  looking 
far  above  them  to  the  dim  tiers  of  galleries  reach 
ing  up  into  the  dark ;  or  again  with  eyes  glued  on 
the  stage  feasting  upon  Paris,  art,  "  Bohemia, " 
youth  and  romance;  squeezing  her  companion's 
hand  and  in  flashes  recollecting  dazzling  little  in 
cidents  of  the  fortnight  just  gone  by — her  mind 
went  roving  into  the  future,  finding  friends  and 
wide  rich  lives  shimmering  and  sparkling  like  the 
sunlight  on  the  sea.  As  that  Italian  music  rose, 
all  at  once  she  wanted  to  give  herself,  "To  give 
and  give  and  give  him  all ! "  The  tears  welled  up 
in  her  happy  eyes. 

* '  However !    To  be  very  gay ! ' ' 

Later  that  evening  in  a  cafe  she  leaned  across 
the  table  and  asked  excited  questions  about 
"Boheme"  and  Paris.  What  was  Paris  really 
like?  The  Latin  Quarter,  the  Beaux  Arts? 
What  did  he  do  there,  how  did  he  live?  In  what 
queer  and  funny  old  rooms  ?  Did  he  live  alone  or 
with  somebody  else?  Something  was  clutching 
now  at  her  breast.  (Farrar  had  sung  "Mimi" 
that  night).  "Don't  be  silly!"  she  told  herself. 
"Oh,  Joe!"  she  said,  and  she  looked  down  at  the 
fork  in  her  hand  which  she  was  fingering  nerv 
ously.  Then  she  looked  quickly  up  and  smiled. 
"What  man  did  you  room  with?  Any  one?" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  115 

He  was  smiling  across  the  table  still.  "You  in 
quisitive  woman,"  said  his  eyes. 

*  '  No,  I  lived  alone, ' '  he  replied.  ' '  And  I  sat  at 
a  drafting  board — with  a  sweater  on — it  used  to  be 
cold." 

"Oh,  you  poor  dear!" 

"And  I  worked,"  he  continued,  "like  a  bull  pup. 
And  along  toward  morning  I  tied  a  wet  towel 
around  my  head — " 

"Oh,  Joe !"  Ethel's  foot  pressed  his,  and  they 
laughed  at  each  other.  "But  there  must  have 
been,"  she  cried,  "so  much  besides!  Joe  Lanier, 
you  are  lying!  There  were  cafes — and  student 
balls  and  fancy  dress — and  singing — and  queer 
streets  at  night!" 

"That's  so,"  he  answered  solemnly,  "the  city 
of  Paris  did  have  streets.  You  walked  on  them — 
from  place  to  place." 

"Joe  Lanier — " 

"First  you  put  the  right  foot  forward,  then  the 
left — you  moved  along. ' ' 

' '  Joe !    For  goodness  sakes ! ' ' 

"Look  here.  Do  you  know  what  I  want  to  do 
with  you  ? ' ' 

"No."  And  Ethel  shook  her  head.  She  did 
know,  precisely,  and  it  was  her  motive  for  all  this 
talk. 


1.16  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"  Take  you  there — and  get  rooms  in  the  Quarter 
— not  too  far  from  the  Luxembourg — " 

"Oh,  Joe,  you  perfect  darling!" 

He  went  on  describing  all  they  would  do,  in  the 
cafes  and  on  the  streets,  in  old  churches  and  at 
plays  and  at  the  Opera  Comique,  where  she  must 
surely  see  f 'Louise."  They  began  excitedly  plan 
ning  ways  and  means,  expenses,  his  business  and 
when  he  could  get  away.  He  sobered  at  that,  and 
she  cried  to  herself,  "Now  he's  thinking  of  his 
friend  Bill!  Oh,  what  a  detestable,  tiresome 
worm ! ' ' 

Then  a  man  who  was  passing  their  table  stopped 
in  surprise  as  he  recognized  Joe,  bowed,  smiled 
and  said  something  and  went  on,  and  joined  a 
hilarious  group  down  the  room.  And  Ethel  saw 
him  speak  to  them  and  she  felt  their  glances  turned 
her  way.  Joe  had  grown  suddenly  awkward,  his 
face  wore  a  forced,  unnatural  smile,  and  he  was 
talking  rapidly — but  she  heard  nothing  that  he 
said.  The  whole  atmosphere  had  changed  in  an 
instant. 

For  those  people  over  there  were  some  of  Amy's 
friends,  no  doubt,  amused  at  Joe  and  his  young 
second  wife,  amused  that  Joe  had  not  had  the 
nerve  to  ask  them  to  his  wedding.  Ethel  could 
feel  herself  burning  inside.  A  mistake  not  to  have 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  117 

asked  them  ?  No !  What  had  they  to  do  with  it  ? 
What  right  had  they,  what  hold  on  Joe?  They 
had  been  a  mighty  poor  lot  of  friends,  with  empty 
minds  and  money  hearts,  just  clothes  and  food, 
late  hours  and  wine!  They  had  been  decidedly 
bad  for  him,  had  drawn  him  off  from  his  real  work 
and  plunged  him  into  the  rush  to  be  rich!  A 
voice  within  her,  from  underneath,  was  asking, 
6 '  Or  was  it  Amy  ? ' '  But  she  paid  no  heed  to  that. 
It  asked,  "Are  you  sure  they  are  all  so  bad? 
Have  you  taken  the  trouble  to  find  out!"  But 
angrily  she  answered  that  she  wanted  friends  of 
her  own,  that  she  couldn't  be  just  a  second  wife. 
"I've  got  to  be  all  different,  new!  I've  got  to 
be — and  I  will,  I  will!"  She  swallowed  fiercely. 
Besides,  it  was  what  Joe  needed,  exactly!  He 
showed  already  what  it  had  meant  to  be  rid  of 
such  friends !  Had  he  ever  talked  of  Paris  before, 
or  his  dreams  and  ambitions  or  anything  real? 
But  the  voice  retorted  sharp  and  clear, 

"Why  hide  it  then?  Why  let  this  foolish  dan 
gerous  habit  of  never  mentioning  Amy's  name 
keep  growing  up  between  you  and  your  husband? 
It  may  do  a  lot  of  harm,  you  know.  What  are  you 
afraid  of?" 

Nothing  whatever,  she  replied.  She  decided  to 
speak  of  it  then  and  there.  She  would  be  per 
fectly  natural,  and  ask  him,  "Who  are  your 


118  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

friends  over  there?  Some  people  Amy  used  to 
know?"  And  she  grew  rigid  all  at  once.  Her 
throat  contracted  and  felt  dry.  Angrily  she  bit 
her  lip  ...  But  the  habit  of  silence  was  too 
strong.  .  .  .  Soon,  with  a  carefully  pleasant  smile, 
she  was  attending  to  his  talk  and  by  her  questions 
drawing  out  more  and  more  of  his  life  abroad. 

"His  work,"  she  thought,  " that's  the  strongest 
thing  to  hold  his  mind  away  from  those  people." 
And  soon  she  had  him  talking  of  the  Beaux  Arts, 
architecture,  plans  and  "periods"  and  "styles," 
things  she  was  quite  vague  about,  but  she  did  not 
have  to  listen  now.  That  was  always  so  safe,  she 
told  herself.  She  was  even  a  little  jealous  of  this 
puzzling,  engrossing  work,  which  could  so  hold 
her  husband's  mind.  She  frowned.  That  was  as 
it  should  be;  a  man's  work  was  his  own  concern. 
But  his  living,  his  home,  what  he  did  at  night? 

"This  can't  go  on,"  she  decided.  "There  will 
have  to  be  friends  for  both  of  us.  I  need  them, 
too.  Oh,  how  I  need  one  woman  friend!  And 
where  shall  I  find  her?  Somewhere  in  this  city 
there  must  be  just  the  people  I  want — if  only  I 
could  reach  them!" 

And  presently  she  was  saying  aloud  in  a  lazy 
careless  tone  of  voice, 

"Sometimes  I  get  wondering,  Joe,  if  there  isn't 
a  Paris  in  New  York." 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  was  a  few  weeks  later.  A  doctor  had  been 
there  and  gone,  and  returning  into  the  living- 
room  Ethel  sank  down  on  a  chair  with  a  quiet  in 
tensity  in  her  eyes.  For  some  time  she  had  not 
been  feeling  herself,  but  she  did  not  want  to  worry 
Joe,  and  so  at  last  she  had  telephoned  to  the 
clergyman  who  had  married  her. 

"You  may  not  remember  me,"  she  had  said, 
"but  you  married  me  in  December.  Perhaps 
you'll  recall  it  if  I  say  there  were  only  three 
friends  at  the  church." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  it — perfectly." 

* '  Thank  you.  I  'm  not  quite  well  and  I  have  no 
friends  to  turn  to,  so  I'm  wondering  if  you  could 
recommend  a  good  doctor  I  could  see." 

The  doctor  recommended  had  just  paid  his  visit. 
And  now  as  the  dusk  deepened  she  had  the 
strangest  feelings.  Her  year  and  a  half  in  the 
city  seemed  hurried  and  feverish  as  a  dream. 
Her  mind  ran  back  into  the  past  and  on  into  the 
future.  Only  a  few  days  before,  the  round  robin 
letter  had  come  again.  In  it  the  girl  who  had 
married  the  mining  engineer  out  West  had  told  of 

119 


120  HIS.  SECOND   WIFE 

having  a  baby  in  a  little  town  in  Montana,  Ethel 
had  thought  of  the  doctor  then. 

She  rose  now  and  got  the  letter  and  re-read  it 
slowly.  Presently  she  put  it  down  and  began  cry 
ing  softly,  though  she  felt  neither  sad  nor  fright 
ened.  Her  life  had  so  completely  changed.  All 
those  girl  friends,  so  scattered;  all  those  years, 
so  far  behind.  It  was  like  getting  on  a  ship,  she 
thought,  to  start  across  the  ocean.  ' '  You  can 't  get 
off,  you  must  go  across.  Oh,  Ethel  Lanier,  how 
happy  you'll  be."  But  the  happiness  seemed  a 
long  way  off. 

How  quiet  it  was.  The  nurse  came  in  with 
Susette  from  the  park.  Ethel  went  into  the 
nursery  and  kneeling  down  she  began  to  unbutton 
Susette 's  little  jacket.  The  child's  plump  face 
was  so  rosy  and  cold.  She  kissed  it  suddenly. 

"Martha,"  she  said,  "I'll  need  you  here  for  a 
long  time  now.  I'm  going  to  have  a  baby." 

She  reddened  then  and  held  her  breath.  Queer, 
how  she  had  blurted  it  out !  She  had  not  meant  to 
tell  any  one  yet.  But  the  look  of  dawning  joy  and 
relief  in  Martha's  eyes  made  her  glad  she  had 
spoken.  Plainly  the  nurse  had  been  dreading  the 
time  so  fast  approaching  when  she  would  have  to 
leave  Susette,  who  was  now  nearly  four  years  old. 
But  all  she  said  to  Ethel  was  this : 

*  '  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Mrs.  Lanier.    I  hope  you  '11 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  121 

be  very  careful  now. ' '  She  shot  a  look  as  keen  as 
a  knife,  which  asked,  "Do  you  really  want  a  child? 
Or  are  you  like  her?  Was  it  a  mistake?" 

And  Ethel  went  quickly  out  of  the  room.  In 
the  living-room  her  eye  was  caught  by  Amy's 
photograph  on  the  table.  She  had  always  kept  it 
there.  In  her  cleaning  she  had  put  it  back. 
Emily,  too,  had  put  it  back.  They  had  never 
spoken  Amy's  name.  But  Ethel  faced  the  picture 
now  for  some  moments  steadily.  Somehow  it  had 
lost  its  beauty,  it  looked  weak  and  soul-less,  with 
out  power  any  longer  over  Ethel's  future.  "Poor 
Amy.  Oh,  how  much  you  missed."  And  she 
added,  "I'll  never  be  like  that."  For  an  instant 
she  let  her  mind  dwell  on  the  past,  on  how  Su- 
sette's  coming  must  have  been — unwelcomed  by 
her  mother. 

"But  this  one  will  be  welcomed!  Our  love  is 
so — so  different !  This  will  bind  us,  oh,  so  close ! 
It's  done  now,  you're  tied  for  life!"  She  had 
never  felt  it  so  before.  The  months  of  her  mar 
riage  bad  been  so  exciting,  and  even  in  the  long 
summer's  thinking  her  love  had  seemed  always  a 
little  unreal.  "But  this  is  real — inside  of  me!" 
Her  fancy  went  careering  ahead,  with  joy  and 
wonder,  a  thrill  of  dismay.  "I  was  so  free,  with 
my  life  to  choose !  I  could  have  been  almost  any 
thing!  But  now  it  is  settled.  This  is  my  life. 


122  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

We  talk  and  we  talk  about  being  free — and  then 
all  at  once — a  baby." 

In  the  days  which  followed  and  grew  into  weeks 
and  months,  the  feeling  of  quiet  remained  with 
her.  The  pang  of  uneasiness  as  to  how  she  was 
to  find  friends  for  Joe  and  herself,  was  allayed 
and  put  off  to  the  future.  He  would  not  expect 
anything  of  her  just  now.  And  because  it  was 
pressing  upon  her  no  longer,  it  became  a  pleasure 
to  dream  and  plan  for  herself  and  Joe  and  the 
children. 

She  was  only  twenty-four,  and  although  Joe  was 
thirty-six  he  looked  years  younger.  They  could 
grow.  Now  she  began  asking  him  to  read  aloud  in 
the  evenings,  nor  was  the  reading  all  "mere  fluff." 
Though  she  picked  out  amusing  things  to  vary 
the  monotony,  she  insisted  on  magazines  and 
books  which  had  been  recommended  by  the  little 
history  " prof  "  at  home,  to  whom  Ethel  wrote  long 
letters.  The  books  rather  appalled  her  husband 
at  times ;  but  using  her  new  hold  on  him,  she  said, 

"Go  on,  dear,  now  begin. "  And  she  picked  up 
her  sewing  with  a  look  which  said,  "We've  got  to 
grow,  you  know,  if  we  're  ever  to  get  friends  worth 
while  or  have  a  life  worth  living." 

But  again  she  would  shut  out  all  that,  and  smile 
to  herself  and  grow  absorbed.  And  this  habit 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  123 

grew  to  such  a  degree  that  by  the  beginning  of 
summer  their  reading  bees  had  come  to  an  end. 
In  June  she  took  Martha  and  Susette  and  went  to 
the  seashore  for  three  months.  She  came  back  in 
September,  and  now  the  time  was  drawing  near. 
Her  husband's  love  grew  anxious  and  there  came 
troubled  gleams  in  his  eyes. 

The  trained  nurse  had  arrived.  The  doctor 
kept  coming.  Martha  was  plainly  "in  a  state. " 
And  Emily  Giles,  for  all  her  grim  ways,  had  mo 
ments  almost  tender.  All  centering,  swiftly  cen 
tering,  as  the  long  voyage  neared  its  end. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHAT  deep  relief  and  blessed  peace.  She 
lay  on  her  bed,  now  smiling,  now  inert, 
eyes  closed,  weak  and  relaxed,  but  already  aware 
from  time  to  time  of  the  beginnings  within  her 
self  of  new  vitality,  food  for  her  child.  Her  body 
felt  profoundly  changed,  and  so  it  was  with  her 
spirit.  Again  the  thought  rose  in  her  mind  that 
this  had  settled  and  sealed  her  life.  But  she  was 
glad  of  the  certainty.  Slowly,  as  her  strength  re 
turned,  all  the  vague  desires  and  dreams  of  the 
last  few  months  came  back,  grew  clear;  and  she 
planned  and  planned  for  the  small  boy  whom  the 
nurse  kept  bringing  to  her  bed.  At  such  moments 
the  new  love  within  her  rose  like  some  fresh  burst 
ing  spring. 

The  city,  though  so  vast,  complex,  came  to  be 
like  a  place  full  of  miracles.  The  voices  of  its 
'Ceaseless  life  came  into  her  window  day  and  night, 
the  hoots  and  distant  bellows  of  ships,  the  rattle  of 
wheels,  the  rush  of  cars,  the  long  swift  thunder  of 
the  "L,"  and  bursts  of  laughter  from  the  streets, 
and  animated  voices.  She  remembered  her  first 
night  in  New  York ;  she  recalled  her  earlier  visions 
of  the  city  as  a  place  of  thrilling  aspirations,  wide, 

124 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  125 

sparkling,  abundant  lives.    And  Ethel  smiled  and 
told  herself, 

"All  the  glory  I  dreamed  of  is  here." 

The  thought  came  to  her  clearly  that  Amy  it 

was  who  had  hidden  it  all,  who  had  stood  smilingly 

in  the  way  and  had  said,  "All  this  is  nothing. " 

But  she  felt  a  rush  of  pity  now  for  the  woman 

who  was  left  behind,  cut  off  so  completely  by  the 

birth  of  this  small  son.     The  nurse  was  bringing 

him  into  the  room,  and  Ethel  smiled  at  her  and 

said, 

"Ask  Susette  if  she  doesn't  want  to  come,  too." 

It  was  only  a  day  or  two  later  that  her  husband 
broke  his  news.  He  had  been  so  dear  to  her,  his 
visits  had  been  such  a  joy,  and  although  behind  his 
tenderness  vaguely  she  had  sensed  some  change, 
some  new  excitement  in  his  mind,  in  her  own  ab 
sorption  in  their  boy  she  had  attributed  it  to  that. 
But  early  one  evening  he  came  in  with  a  sheaf  of 
roses  in  his  arms,  and  when  she  had  exclaimed  at 
them  and  breathed  deep  of  their  dewy  fragrance, 
Joe  bent  over  and  kissed  her,  and  said  a  little 
huskily, 

"I've  got  some  big  news  for  you,  little  wife. 
It's  big.  It's  going  to  mean  so  much." 

"What  is  it,  Joe?" 

She  stared  up  intently  into  his  eyes.    He  was 


126  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

telling  her  he  had  made  money.  He  was  telling 
how  the  approaching  birth  of  their  small  son  had 
made  him  feel  he  must  put  an  end  to  these  ups  and 
downs,  and  how  he  had  worked  and  racked  his 
brains.  He  told  of  heavy  borrowing,  of  anxious 
weeks,  of  a  wonderful  stroke  of  luck  at  last  which 
not  only  made  him  rich  for  the  moment  but  opened 
the  way  to  wealth  ahead.  He  was  speaking  of 
what  this  would  mean  to  them  here.  He  knew  how 
hard  it  had  been  for  her  and  how  pluckily  she  had 
come  through  without  ever  asking  for  anything. 
But  all  that  was  over  now.  He  had  made  money ! 
What  was  the  matter?  She  heard  it  all  in  frag 
ments,  topsy  turvy.  What  was  wrong?  "Here 
is  a  Joe  I  Ve  never  known ! ' '  Still  staring  up  into 
his  eyes,  she  saw  their  strange  exultant  light ;  the 
excitement  in  his  husky  voice  struck  into  her 
sensitive  ear  and  jarred;  and  she  nearly  shrank 
from  the  clutch  of  his  hand.  She  lay  wondering 
why  she  was  not  glad,  till  suddenly  she  saw  in  his 
face  his  sharp  disappointment  at  the  way  she  was 
taking  his  news.  With  a  pang  of  alarm  she 
roused  herself  and  said, 

"Oh,  Joe,  it's  too  wonderful!  It's  so  sudden 
it  strikes  me  all  of  a  heap!"  And  she  laughed 
unsteadily,  seized  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  talking 
rapidly,  her  eyes  glistening  all  the  while  with  fool 
ish  tears.  Fiercely  then  she  asked  herself,  "Why 


HIS   SECOND  WIFE  127 

can't  you  enter  in  and  be  gay?"  But  though  she 
was  doing  better  now  and  had  him  talking  as  be 
fore,  again  and  again  she  felt  he  was  thinking 
how  different  Amy  would  have  been — how  in  an  in 
stant,  laughing  and  crying,  she  would  have  thrown 
herself  into  his  arms ! 

Yes,  indeed,  a  Joe  she  had  never  known,  shaped 
and  moulded  by  the  wife  who  had  had  him  in  those 
early  years  when  a  woman  can  do  so  much  with 
a  man,  can  do  what  sets  him  in  a  groove  in  work 
and  living,  tastes,  ideals.  "And  I  thought  I  had 
done  so  much!"  But  Amy's  hand  had  still  been 
there ;  he  had  been  her  husband,  all  the  time ! 

It  was  a  relief  to  have  him  gone.  Alone  she 
could  think  more  clearly.  "What  are  you  so 
frightened  about  1  Of  being  rich,  you  little  fool  ? ' ' 
No,  she  had  always  wanted  that,  money  enough 
to  forget  it  existed,  money  to  open  all  the  doors. 
"But  this  money  is  coming  too  soon!  I'm  not 
ready.  I  'm  too  young !  And  he  '11  expect  so  much 
of  me  now.  There'll  be  no  excuse  for  holding 
back,  for  going  slow  till  I  find  what  I  want.  He  '11 
expect  me  to  find  friends  at  once!  But  where 
shall  I  find  them  all  of  a  sudden!  It  isn't  as 
though  we  were  millionaires,  really  big  ones,  all  in 
a  minute.  The  newspapers  won 't  be  very  excited ; 
the  town  will  take  it  quite  calmly,  quite!  And 
for  the  life  of  me  I  don't  see  any  friends  rushing 


128  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

at  us!  And  yet  hell  expect  it!  So  much  he'll 
expect!  He'll  give  and  give  and  give  me  things 
and  then  wonder  why  I  don't  get  anywhere!" 
The  angry  tears  leaped  in  her  eyes.  "Because 
he's  different  now,  he's  changed!  All  bursting 
with  his  big  success,  his  ' strike,'  his  business — 
money  mad!  Oh,  how  I  hate  his  business — and 
that  detestable  partner,  too!" 

A  wave  of  rebellion  swept  over  her  at  the  way 
she  had  been  caught,  tangled  into  the  life  of  a 
man  and  the  fortunes  of  his  business.  But  then 
she  thought  of  the  son  she  had  borne  him,  and 
this  brought  quick  remorse  and  tears,  from  which 
she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  And  when  she  awoke 
she  found  the  nurse  was  waiting  with  the  baby. 

And  the  days  which  followed  with  their  peace, 
their  slow  return  of  health  and  strength,  brought 
assurance,  too,  and  she  laughed  at  herself  for  hav 
ing  been  such  a  foolish  child.  She  recalled  her 
panic  on  her  wedding  night.  Then,  too,  she  had 
found  a  Joe  unknown.  But  had  that  turned  out 
so  dreadful?  He  came  often  to  her  bedside  now; 
and  although  she  could  feel  how  changed  he  was, 
it  no  longer  frightened  her.  She  had  her  wee  boy ; 
and  Emily  Giles  and  Susette  and  her  nurse  kept 
coming  in;  and  the  room  grew  very  gay,  as  they 
had  little  parties  there. 

"Who  needs  friends  so  all  of  a  sudden?" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  129 

But  one  day  Emily  came  in  and  grimly  re 
marked,  " There's  a  woman  outside  who  owns  this 
apartment." 

"What!" 

"She  acts  that  way.  She's  walking  'round 
that  sitting-room — picking  things  up  and  putting 
things  down — "  Emily's  voice  was  rising  in 
wrath. 

"Emily!  Sh-h!  She'll  hear  you!  Who  is 
she  1  Didn  't  she  give  her  name ! ' ' 

"Here's  her  name!"  And  Emily  poked  out  a 
card,  at  which  Ethel  looked  in  a  startled  way. 

"Fanny  Carr!    Now  why  has  she  come  here?" 

"Will  you  see  her  or  shall  I  tell  her  the  flat  is 
already  rented?" 

"No,  no!  Emily — don't  be  rude!  She's  a 
friend  of  my — my  husband 's ! " 

And  a  few  moments  later,  propped  up  in  bed 
with  a  pretty  lace  cap  on  her  head,  Ethel  was  smil 
ing  affably  at  her  visitor,  who  was  exclaiming, 

"My  dear  girl,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again! 
So  good  of  you,  letting  me  in  like  this!  I  didn't 
have  the  least  idea !  I  didn  't  know  of  your  baby — 
I  hadn  't  even  heard  you  were  married !  I  Ve  been 
abroad  for  over  a  year.  I  got  back  to  New  York 
only  last  week  and  heard  from  one  of  Joe's  men 
friends  of  the  luck  he  has  had — how  his  business 
is  simply  booming  along !  It 's  perfectly  gorgeous, 


130  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

Ethel  dear,  and  I'm  so  glad  for  you,  my  child! 
When  I  heard  the  news — ' ' 

She  talked  on  vivaciously.  And  Ethel  lay  back, 
her  gaze  intent  on  Fanny's  handsome  features,  on 
her  rich  lips,  pearl  earrings,  her  eyes  with  their 
curious  color,  grey  green,  that  were  so  sparkling 
and  alive.  And  Ethel  thought  to  herself  in  dis 
may:  "How  much  more  attractive  she  is!  Was 
my  first  feeling  about  her  all  wrong,  or  is  it  that 
I  'm  getting  used  to  these  New  Yorkers  ?  I  thought 
she  was  just  hard — all  brass!  She  isn't!  She's 

she's  dangerous !  What  is  she  poking  'round 

here  for?  What  does  she  want?  Is  she  married 
again?  No,  her  name  was  the  same  on  her  card. 
Still  single — yes,  and  looking  around — for  some 
body  with  money!" 

By  the  questions  Fanny  was  asking,  plainly  she 
was  trying  to  find  what  friends  Ethel  had  made  in 
New  York.  And  although  the  girl  on  the  bed 
talked  of  the  town  in  glowing  terms,  in  a  few  mo 
ments  Fanny  was  saying, 

"I'm  afraid  you've  been  rather  lonely  here." 

"Oh,  no!"  And  Ethel  laughed  merrily.  "If 
you  knew  how  my  time  is  filled — every  hour !  My 
small  boy — "  and  she  went  eagerly  on  to  show  how 
full  her  life  had  become. 

' '  Oh,  you  darling ! ' '  Fanny  laughed.    And  then 


HIS   SECOND  WIFE  131 

with  an  envious  sigh  she  said,  "You  make  me  feel 
so  old  and  forlorn.  With  all  your  beauty,  Ethel 
Lanier,  and  youth — your  whole  life  starting — well, 
you've  just  got  to  let  me  in  and  take  you  about. 
Oh,  I  know,  I  know,  it's  so  wonderful  here,  and 
fresh  and  new,  and  you're  quite  contented  and 
all  that.  But  after  all,  it's  a  city,  you  know — a 
perfectly  good  one,  full  of  life — and  people  you'll 
like — old  friends  of  Joe's."  She  went  on  in  a 
crisp  gay  tone  to  paint  the  pleasures  of  the  town. 
And  meanwhile  glancing  at  Ethel  she  thought, 
"What  a  perfect  devil  she  thinks  me,  poor  child, 
a  bold  bad  creature  on  Joe's  trail — when  all  I 
want  is  to  take  her  around  and  help  her  spend  her 
money.  I  need  it  badly  enough,  God  knows ! ' ' 

At  last  she  rose. 

"I  mustn't  tire  you.  Good-bye,  dear.  You'll 
let  me  come  again,  of  course." 

"Oh,  yes,  do."  At  Ethel's  tone,  Fanny  smiled 
to  herself,  as  deftly  she  adjusted  her  furs.  She 
turned  to  look  in  the  mirror  and  her  eye  was 
caught  by  the  photograph  of  Amy  over  on  Joe's 
chiffonier.  She  moved  a  step  toward  it,  paused, 
turned  back,  and  with  a  good-bye  to  Ethel  went 
out. 

Ethel 's  eyes  went  back  to  the  photograph.  How 
strong  and  alarming,  all  in  an  hour,  Amy's  pic- 


132  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

ture  had  become.    As  she  looked,  it  seemed  to 
take  on  life,  to  be  saying,  " Money!    Money  at 
last ! ' '    And  with  dismay  she  told  herself, 
"Now  they'll  come  in  a  perfect  horde!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

<  <Q5HALL  I  tell  Joe?    Most  certainly." 

J5  But  she  did  not  tell  him  all,  that  night. 
She  did  not  say,  "One  of  Amy's  friends  was  here 
today,  and  she 's  coming  again,  and  more  are  com 
ing — and  I  hate  them,  every  one!"  She  simply 
remarked, 

"Oh,  Joe,  dear — Fanny  Carr  was  here  today." 
"She    was,    eh?"    He    gave    a    slight    start. 
"Where  has  she  been  all  this  time?" 

"Abroad."  And  Ethel  answered  his  questions. 
"She'll  be  here  a  good  deal,  I  fancy,"  she  ended. 
Joe  looked  annoyed  and  uneasy.  But  he  did  not 
speak,  that  evening,  of  the  memories  rising  in  his 
mind.  For  on  both  the  old  spell  of  silence  was 
strong.  Subtly  the  spirit  of  the  first  wife  came 
stealing  back  into  the  room,  pervaded  it  and  made 
it  her  own.  But  her  name  was  still  unspoken. 

The  next  day  brought  an  exquisite  baby's  cap 
with  Fanny's  card  tucked  inside.  And  in  the  fort 
night  after  that,  Fanny  herself  came  several  times. 
She  talked  in  such  a  natural  way,  and  her  smile 
and  the  look  in  her  clever  grey  eyes  was  so  good- 
humoured  and  friendly.  "She's  doing  it  beauti 
fully,"  Ethel  thought.  But  she  pulled  herself  up. 

133 


134  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

66 Doing  what  beautifully?  What  do  I  mean? 
One  would  think  we  were  millionaires,  and  Joe  a 
perfect  Adonis!  Is  she  trying  to  eat  us?  And 
aren't  you  rather  a  snob,  my  love,  to  be  so  sure 
you  hate  the  woman  before  you  even  know  her?" 

At  such  moments  Ethel  would  relax  and  grow 
pleasantly  interested  in  Fanny's  talk  of  Paris  and 
Kome,  or  of  New  York.  In  each  city  Fanny 
seemed  to  have  led  very  much  the  same  existence. 
In  each  there  had  been  Americans,  and  hotels, 
cafes  and  dances,  motor  trips  and  lunches,  gossip 
and  scandal  without  end.  But  she  told  of  it  all  in 
a  humorous  way  that  made  it  quite  amusing. 
And  it  was  a  good  deal  the  same  with  the  two 
women,  Amy's  friends,  whom  Fanny  brought  to 
tea  a  bit  later.  Their  gossip  and  their  laughter, 
their  voices  breaking  into  each  other  and  making 
a  perfect  hubbub  at  times,  their  smart  suits  and 
hats  and  dainty  boots,  their  plump  faces,  lively 
eyes,  all  were  quite  exciting  to  Ethel,  when  she 
threw  off  her  hostility  and  the  uneasiness  they 
aroused.  It  felt  good  to  be  gossipy  once  more. 

But  how  they  chattered!  How  they  stayed! 
Joe  would  be  coming  home  soon  now,  and  she 
wanted  them  to  go.  But  they  did  not  go,  and 
Ethel  guessed  that  it  was  Joe  they  were  waiting 
for.  She  was  sure  of  it  when  he  appeared.  The 
way  they  all  rushed  at  him  with  little  shrieks  of 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  135 

laughter,  talking  together,  excited  as  girls! 
"Though  they're  all  years  older  than  I  am!" 
Ethel  angrily  exclaimed,  as  she  sat  there  matronly 
and  severe.  She  eyed  her  husband  narrowly,  and 
at  first  with  keen  satisfaction  she  saw  how  an 
noyed  and  embarrassed  he  was.  But  the  moments 
passed,  and  he  grew  relieved,  more  easy  and 
more  natural,  his  voice  taking  on  its  usual  tone, 
blunt  and  genial.  And  she  thought,  "He's  going 
to  like  it!"  For  a  moment  she  detested  him  then. 
"They'll  flatter  him,  make  a  tin  god  of  him!  No, 
I  mean  a  money  god !  That's  what  they  want,  his 
money!"  She  positively  snorted,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  it.  Now  they  were  turning  back 
to  her  and  she  was  in  the  hubbub,  too.  And  how 
amiably  she  smiled ! 

When  they  were  gone,  there  fell  a  silence  which 
was  like  a  sudden  pall.  "He  can  break  it!  I 
won't!"  she  decided  viciously.  He  had  gone  to 
their  room,  she  had  followed  him  there,  and  he 
was  not  having  an  easy  time.  He  washed  and 
dressed  without  a  word.  But  at  last  he  came  to 
her. 

"Look  here."  His  arm  was  about  her,  she 
jerked  away,  but  he  would  not  release  her. 
"You're  the  most  adorable  little  wife  that  ever 
made  a  man  happy, ' '  he  said.  * '  But  you  're  young, 
you  know — " 


136  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"Is  that  a  crime  I" 

"No,  it's  something  those  other  women  would 
all  give  their  eye-teeth  for." 

"Goon." 

"But  you're  human,  you  know,  and  youVe  got 
to  grow  older — and  as  you  do  you  '11  find,  my  dear, 
that  it  takes  all  kinds  to  make  a  world." 

"How  original!"    He  went  on  unabashed: 

"And  if  you  are  to  get  any  friends,  you've  got 
to  get  out  and  meet  all  kinds — many  you  don 't  like 
at  all — and  then  little  by  little  take  your  choice." 
He  paused,  and  although  he  did  not  add,  "After 
all,  they're  Amy's  friends,  and  you  might  at  least 
give  'em  a  chance" — Ethel  knew  he  was  thinking 
that,  though  he  only  ended  gently,  "But  I  guess 
I'll  leave  it  all  to  you.  Do  as  you  like.  I'll  be 
satisfied. ' ' 

"He  won't  be,  though,"  she  told  herself.  She 
knew  he  would  be  distinctly  annoyed  if  she  did  not 
enter  in.  "No,  I've  simply  got  to  be  nice  to  them. 
There 's  no  keeping  them  away ! ' ' 

And  in  this  she  was  right.  Flowers*  and  gifts 
for  the  baby  came,  and  several  more  women 
friends;  and  one  of  them  brought  her  husband. 
Nearly  always  they  stayed  until  Joe  came  home; 
and  in  his  manner,  with  dismay,  she  saw  the  hold 
they  were  getting.  It  was  not  only  flattery  they 
used,  they  appealed  to  his  loyalty  to  his  first  wife. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  137 

' ' Don't  drop  us  now,"  they  seemed  to  say.  "We 
were  your  friends  when  you  were  poor — when  she 
was  poor.  If  she  had  lived,  just  think  how  wel 
come  we  should  be." 

Early  one  evening  when  Ethel  and  Joe  were 
dressing  for  dinner,  Emily  Giles  came  in  with  a 
long  box  of  roses.  Ethel  thought  they  were  for 
herself. 

'  *  No, ' '  said  Emily,  '  '  they  're  for  your  husband. ' ' 

"For  me?"  Joe  laughed.  "There's  some  mis 
take." 

"No — there's  no  mistake,"  said  Ethel,  in  a  low 
unnatural  voice.  In  an  instant  she  had  grown 
cold.  What  a  fool,  to  have  forgotten  that  this  was 
Amy's  birthday!  Inside  the  box  was  Fanny's 
card  and  on  it  she  had  written,  "In  memory  of  the 
many  times  I  helped  you  buy  a  birthday  gift." 

Ethel  went  quickly  out  of  the  room.  It  was  an 
awkward  evening. 

Fanny  gave  a  dinner  soon  after  that  to  cele 
brate  Ethel's  recovery.  It  was  in  a  hotel  grill 
room,  and  it  was  large  and  noisy — and  noisier  and 
noisier — till  even  above  the  boisterous  hubbub  at 
the  tables  all  about,  the  noise  of  their  party  could 
be  heard.  At  least  so  it  seemed  to  Ethel's  ears. 
And  what  were  they  saying?  Anything  really 
witty,  sparkling?  No — just  chatter,  peals  of 


138  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

laughter !  They  were  just  plain  cheap  and  tough ! 
How  red  were  their  faces,  warm  and  moist  their 
lips  and  eyes ! 

"You're  not  vivid  enough,  that's  the  trouble 
with  you!  You've  got  to  be  vivider!"  she 
thought.  "You  ought  to  have  taken  that  cock 
tail!"  She  drank  wine  now,  a  whole  glass  of  it, 
and  tried  to  be  very  boisterous  with  the  man  on 
her  right,  who  was  smiling  back  as  though  he  could 
barely  hear  her  voice.  "He  has  had  too  much!" 
she  told  herself.  "Oh,  how  I  loathe  you — loathe 
you  all!" 

But  later,  when  they  began  to  dance,  she  found 
with  a  little  glow  of  relief  that  she  could  do  this 
rather  well.  Thank  Heaven  she  had  taken  those 
dancing  lessons  a  year  ago ;  and  she  was  younger 
than  most  of  these  creatures,  and  more  lithe  and 
supple.  The  men  were  noticing,  crowding  around 
her.  She  caught  a  glare  from  one  of  their  wives. 
And  that  glare  helped  tremendously,  it  came  like 
a  gleam  of  light  in  the  dark.  She  caught  Joe's 
admiring  glances.  She  danced  with  him,  then 
turned  him  down  for  somebody  else,  'kept  turning 
him  down.  She  threw  into  her  dancing  an  angry 
vim;  but  joy  was  coming  into  it,  too.  This  was 
not  so  bad,  after  all.  ' '  You  may  even  grow  to  like 
all  this ! ' '  But  most  of  her  thinking  was  a  whirl. 

She  went  home  in  a  taxi,  in  Joe's  arms.     She 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  139 

thought,  "This  is  how  he  and  Amy  came  home. 
Never  mind,  I  'm  not  half  so  weak  as  I  thought.  I 
can  play  this  game — " 

And  play  it  she  did. 

The  next  morning  they  slept  very  late.  They 
had  breakfast  in  bed,  and  when  Joe  had  gone  she 
lay  thinking.  Her  mind  was  marvellously  clear. 
It  went  swiftly  over  the  night  before.  Yes,  most 
of  it  had  been  simply  disgusting,  the  eating  and 
drinking,  those  warm  moist  eyes.  "The  way  the 
men  looked  at  you,  held  you !  This  is  no  life  for 
you,  Ethel  Lanier!"  The  dancing  was  all  she 
cared  about.  She  wanted  that,  but  with  other 
men  whom  she  would  like  to  be  friends  with — 
"men  who  would  treat  you  as  something  more 
than  a,  than  a — I  don't  know  what!"  Yes,  she 
must  get  away  from  these  creatures,  and  get  Joe 
away,  too;  but  to  do  it  she  must  show  him  first 
that  she  was  really  willing  to  do  her  best  to  like 
them  all.  The  next  thing  was  to  ask  them  here. 
* '  It  's  the  only  way  to  break  their  hold.  Show  him 
you're  no  jealous  cat.  And  how  do  I  know  that 
among  them  all,  as  I  go  about,  I  won't  find  a  few 
that  aren't  so  tough?  And  through  them  111  find 
others." 

But  she  put  off  entertaining  Joe's  friends,  for 
she  had  her  hands  full  now  in  managing  just  Joe 


140  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

alone.  Amy's  husband  was  coming  to  life  in  him. 
Of  that  there  could  be  no  mistake.  Under  the 
spell  of  his  success,  and  still  more  perhaps  through 
his  pride  and  delight  in  his  handsome  young  wife, 
Joe  was  showing  his  love  for  her  as  Amy  had 
taught  him  long  ago.  He  showered  gifts  upon 
her.  He  delighted  in  surprises.  One  was  a  smart 
little  town  car,  and  this  was  a  very  pleasant  sur 
prise.  But  in  it  he  insisted  upon  her  shopping 
busily.  No  more  wearing  last  year's  clothes! 
And  when  she  was  a  bit  slow  to  move,  to  her  dis 
may  he  went  himself  with  Fanny  Carr,  and  bought 
for  Ethel's  birthday  a  costly  set  of  furs  and  a 
brooch.  He  nearly  bought  pearl  earrings,  too, 
but  Ethel  took  them  back  at  once.  l  i  Fanny  knows 
as  well  as  I  do  myself  that  I  can't  wear  pearls!" 
she  thought  angrily.  She  exchanged  them  for 
opal  pendants.  And  then,  in  order  to  put  a  stop 
to  Fanny's  detestable  attempts  "to  make  me  look 
like  a  perfect  fright,"  Ethel  did  start  in  and  shop. 
And  as  soon  as  she  got  well  into  it,  what  a  fever 
it  became !  Sternly  eyeing  herself  in  the  mirrors 
of  shops,  she  studied  and  made  mistakes  by  the 
score,  and  corrected  and  went  on  and  on.  "I'll 
look  right  if  kills  me ! " 

One  night  she  learned  what  Fanny  Carr  had  had 
in  mind  when  she  came  "poking  into  our  lives!" 
For  Fanny  was  poor — she  had  long  guessed  that ; 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  141 

and  Fanny  had  a  house  on  Long  Island,  and  only 
by  a  hair  's-breadth  now  did  Ethel  keep  her  from 
selling  it  to  Joe  as  a  surprise  for  his  wife. 

"Well,  Fanny,  what  next?"  thought  Ethel  that 
night.  She  had  been  awake  for  hours,  perfectly 
still  and  motionless,  not  to  disturb  her  husband. 
"For  you  are  not  through  yet,  Mrs.  Carr.  So 
long  as  we're  rich  and  you  are  poor  and  have  no 
immediate  husband,  you're  going  to  act  like  a 
ravening  wolf — aren't  you,  my  own  precious. 
You  mean  to  break  my  hold  on  him  by  keeping  him 
thinking  of  her,  of  her!  Now  what  am  I  to  do 
about  it!"  She  frowned.  She  knew  that  she 
ought  to  talk  frankly  to  Joe,  and  get  over  this 
silly  habit  of  never  mentioning  Amy's  name! 
She  grew  determined,  but  then  weak.  For  what 
could  she  say  to  him  about  Amy?  What  did  she 
really  want  to  say?  "Do  I  know  poor  Amy  was 
anything  bad?  Wasn't  she  good  to  me!  Would 
I  care  to  try  to  talk  against  her  ?  No.  And  even 
if  I  did,  you  see,  it  would  only  hurt  me  with  Joe 
— as  it  should. ' ' 

So  she  went  on  in  different  moods.  And  now 
she  saw  her  sister's  face  smiling  out  of  clear 
violet  eyes,  and  again  she  felt  a  small  gloved  hand 
on  her  husband  drawing  him  gently  back — back 
and  back  into  the  past.  Why  was  Amy  so  much 
stronger  now?  "Because  Fanny  Carr  has  been 


142  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

clever  enough  to  take  me  out  of  the  life  I  was  mak 
ing  and  pitch  me  into  Amy's  life,  where  her  hold 
on  Joe  was  strongest.  I'm  in  her  setting.  That's 
the  trouble!'' 

But  she  had  Amy's  friends  to  dine  one  night, 
as  in  her  calmer  moods  she  knew  was  the  only 
sensible  course.  And  as  they  began  arriving,  by 
swift  degrees  amid  the  buzz  of  talk  which  rose, 
Ethel  could  feel  the  room  each  moment  change  and 
become  Amy's  home.  And  it  was  Amy's  dinner, 
too.  No  cooking  of  Emily's  that  night,  for  Joe 
had  suggested  a  caterer.  "The  one  we've  always 
used,"  he  had  said.  And  so  the  cocktails  and  the 
wines  and  the  food  in  many  courses,  the  two  wait 
ers  in  evening  clothes,  and  the  talk  and  the  shrieks 
of  mirth,  were  just  as  they  must  have  been  before 
so  many,  many  times  in  this  room.  Ethel  sat 
affably  rigid  there. 

And  later  at  the  piano  Joe  was  not  Ethers  hus 
band.  Nor  was  it  her  room  when  they  stripped 
up  the  rugs  and  began  to  dance,  nor  her  photo 
graph  their  eyes  kept  seeking  from  time  to  time ! 
She  even  thought  she  could  hear  them  whisper 
about  the  hostess  who  was  dead! 

And  when  very  late  they  had  departed,  and  last 
of  all  Joe  had  gone  with  Fanny  downstairs  to  put 
her  in  her  taxi,  Ethel,  left  alone  in  the  room, 
turned  to  her  sister's  photograph. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  143 

"I  won't  be  like  you,"  she  tensely  declared. 
"I  won't  live  in  your  home — with  your  hus 
band — " 

The  picture  smiled  good-naturedly  back. 

"All  right,"  it  seemed  to  answer,  "then  what 
do  you  expect  to  do?" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BY  the  next  day  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  look  for  another  apartment.  The  move 
had  several  points  in  its  favour.  It  would  not 
only  take  her  away  from  this  place  where  she  felt 
the  spell  so  strong;  it  would  also  give  her  some 
thing  to  do.  "  And  I  need  it,  heaven  knows ! ' '  she 
thought.  And  besides  it  would  provide  an  excuse 
for  not  seeing  Amy's  friends.  "I'll  be  worn  out 
every  evening,"  she  decided  with  grim  satisfac 
tion. 

She  found  Joe  more  than  ready  for  the  change. 
He  himself  had  suggested  it,  some  weeks  before, 
and  Ethel  made  the  most  of  that.  "I've  been 
thinking  over  your  idea  of  moving,"  she  began 
one  night.  And  in  the  talk  which  followed,  the 
intent  little  glances  she  threw  at  him  made  her 
sure  that  in  her  husband's  mind  was  a  half  con 
scious  deep  relief  at  the  idea  of  getting  away  from 
these  rooms  and  their  memories. 

"Poor  dear,"  she  reflected  tenderly,  "what  a 
place  for  a  tired  business  man — a  home  with  two 
assorted  wives  waiting  for  him  every  night." 

But  when  it  came  to  looking  about,  to  her  sur 
prise  Ethel  found  it  hard,  on  her  own  account,  to 

144 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  145 

make  the  move.  For  with  all  its  faults  and  draw 
backs,  this  was  the  place  where  she  had  struggled, 
groped  and  dreamed,  had  married  Joe  and  dis 
covered  him  in  hours  she  would  never  forget,  and 
here  her  baby  had  been  born.  The  place  had 
grown  familiar.  Even  the  huge  building,  for  all 
its  appearance  of  being  exactly  like  every  other 
on  the  street,  had  in  some  curious  fashion  taken 
on  for  Ethel  a  special  atmosphere  of  its  own ;  and 
coming  back  from  a  bleak  succession  of  apart 
ments  she  had  inspected,  this  did  at  least  seem 
more  like  a  home. 

Joe  came  to  her  rescue.  He  was  a  part  owner 
here,  and  with  delight  she  learned  from  him  that 
a  large  and  sunny  apartment  at  the  top  of  the 
building  was  to  be  free  the  first  of  May.  Ethel 
went  up  to  see  it  at  once.  And  the  arrangement 
of  the  rooms,  and  the  way  the  sun  flooded  into  each 
one,  made  her  exclaim  with  pleasure. 

The  present  tenants  were  a  young  widow  and 
her  companion,  a  most  respectable  elderly  dame. 
The  widow  was  about  Ethel's  age  and  excessively 
pretty  and  stylish,  and  in  her  low  sweet  voice  and 
her  manner  was  a  peculiar  attractiveness  that 
Ethel  could  not  analyse.  She  explained  that  she 
was  going  abroad,  possibly  to  be  gone  a  year,  or 
she  never  would  have  given  up  this  gem  of  an 
apartment.  She  seemed  more  than  glad  to  show 


146  HIS   SECOND  WIFE 

Ethel  about,  and  displayed  a  friendly  interest  in 
her  visitor's  eager  planning.  When  Ethel  left  at 
the  end  of  an  hour,  the  widow  smiled  at  her  and 
said,  with  a  charming  little  hesitation, 

"I  don't  think  you  have  my  name.  It's  Mrs. 
Grewe.  I  do  hope  you'll  come  up  whenever  you 
like,  and  let  me  help  you  all  I  can.  I  shall  so  love 
to  feel  when  I  go  that  you  and  your  kiddies  will 
be  here.  I've  noticed  them  so  often,  down-stairs 
and  in  the  elevator.  And  they're  both  such  dar 
lings." 

And  at  that,  with  a  thrill  of  pride,  Ethel  felt  al 
most  as  though  she  had  found  a  friend  in  the 
city  at  last. 

They  saw  each  other  frequently,  for  Ethel  was 
always  running  in  to  look  through  the  various 
rooms  and  puzzle  and  decide  on  curtains,  rugs  and 
portieres.  In  this  she  was  aided  more  than  she 
knew  by  the  taste  displayed  in  the  furnishings, 
rich,  subdued  and  yet  so  gay,  that  young  Mrs. 
Grewe  had  collected  here.  The  two  had  animated 
talks,  and  once  when  her  new  acquaintance  sug 
gested,  "I'd  be  so  glad  if  I  could  be  of  some  help 
in  your  shopping,"  Ethel  replied,  "Oh,  you  could! 
I'd  love  to  have  you!"  And  they  started  in  that 
day. 

And  yet  how  curious,  even  here.  For  when 
ever  Ethel  endeavoured  to  get  the  conversation 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  147 

upon  a  little  more  intimate  terms,  Mrs.  Grewe 
would  almost  instantly  become  evasive  and  re 
mote.  And  once  when  Ethel  asked  her  to  "drop 
down  and  have  dinner  with  us  some  night, "  she 
declined  almost  with  a  start,  as  though  she  were 
saying,  "Ha!  Look  out!  I'm  in  danger  of  let 
ting  you  be  a  real  friend!"  And  thinking  this 
over,  Ethel  reflected,  "The  only  New  Yorker  I've 
met  so  far,  whom  I'd  like  to  know,  is  nice  to  me 
simply  because  she  is  going  abroad  in  a  month  and 
so  it's  safe!  Has  she  offered  to  introduce  me 
to  a  single  friend  of  hers?  Well,  then,  don't! 
Keep  your  old  friends!  I  don't  want  to  eat 
them!"  And  for  days  together  she  would  leave 
the  young  widow  alone. 

But  the  latter  would  make  pleasant  advances, 
and  soon  they  would  be  shopping  again.  This  ac 
quaintance  was  one  of  the  few  bright  spots  in  a 
season  which  for  Ethel  was  full  of  anxious  wor 
ries.  For  it  was  by  no  means  easy.  Amy  had 
been  a  shopper  who  simply  could  not  resist  pretty 
things,  and  so  her  apartment  was  crowded  with 
furniture  and  bric-a-brac.  ' '  How  much  can  I  get 
rid  of  without  offending  Joe?"  asked  Ethel.  He 
was  the  kind  of  man  who  says  nothing.  He  would 
not  object,  but  he  would  feel  hurt.  It  took  the 
most  careful  probing  to  find  how  far  she  could 
safely  go.  And  she  was  tempted  by  the  shops. 


148  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

In  her  smart  town  car,  with  plenty  of  money  and 
with  young  Mrs.  Grewe  at  her  side,  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  resist  the  adorable  things  she  dis 
covered.  "No  wonder  Amy  bought  too  much." 
But  there  they  were,  all  Amy's  belongings,  and  to 
be  rid  of  each  table,  each  chair,  each  rug,  meant 
the  most  careful  thinking. 

"Nevertheless,"  she  told  herself.  "That 
apartment  upstairs  is  to  be  my  own  home." 

In  the  meantime  her  new  occupation  was  work 
ing  out  wonderfully  as  an  excuse  for  not  going 
about  in  the  evenings.  She  was  so  dead  tired 
every  night.  No  need  to  feign  fatigue,  it  was 
real.  She  even  had  to  call  in  her  physician,  in 
the  first  "draggy"  days  of  Spring;  and  he  warned 
her  that  she  was  doing  too  much,  it  was  too  soon 
after  the  birth  of  her  child.  She  was  glad  when 
Joe  happened  to  come  in  and  overhear  the  doctor. 
He  became  the  same  old  dear  to  her  that  he  had 
been  a  year  ago.  And  with  eagerness,  tired 
though  she  was,  she  took  pains  every  evening  to 
dress  in  ways  that  she  knew  he  liked.  And  at 
times  it  was  almost  like  a  second  honeymoon  they 
were  having.  She  used  the  baby,  too,  and  Susette ; 
she  often  persuaded  Joe  to  come  home  in  time  for 
Susette 7s  supper,  or  better  still  for  the  baby's 
bath.  And  all  this  was  so  successful  that  even 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  149 

when  her  spring  fever  was  gone  she  still  stayed  at 
home  in  the  evenings. 

But  in  the  meantime,  what  about  friends? 
6 '  I  'm  la  zy, ' '  she  thought,  "  1 7m  not  facing  it !  I  'm 
just  putting  it  off — and  it 's  dangerous ! ' '  For  Joe 
was  out  so  much  at  night.  Over  half  the  time  he 
did  not  get  home  until  the  children  were  in  bed, 
and  often  after  a  hurried  dinner  he  would  leave  by 
eight  o  'clock — for  business  appointments,  he  told 
her,  at  some  club  or  some  cafe.  He  was  putting 
through  another  big  deal.  At  times,  despite  her 
efforts,  angry  suspicions  would  arise.  He  was 
dealing  with  some  men  from  the  "West.  No  doubt 
they  had  to  be  entertained.  She  had  heard  a  little 
of  such  entertaining  from  travelling  men  she  had 
known  at  home.  "Oh,  Ethel  Lanier,  don't  be  so 
disgusting!"  But  after  all,  a  man  so  tense  all 
day  in  his  office  needed  some  gaiety  at  night. 

She  began  to  suggest  going  out  in  the  evenings. 
They  went  to  "Butterfly"  and  "Louise,"  and  each 
evening  was  a  great  success.  But  within  a  few 
days  Fanny  Carr  called  up  and  asked  them  to  din 
ner  and  the  play.  Ethel  made  some  excuse  and 
declined.  She  did  not  mention  it  to  Joe,  but  that 
night  he  said  gruffly,  "Sorry  you  turned  Fanny 
down."  And  Ethel  looked  at  him  with  a  start. 
So  Joe  was  seeing  her  these  days ! 


150  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"I  haven't  been  feeling  very  strong,  Joe,"  she 
said  in  an  unnatural  tone. 

"You've  been  to  the  opera  twice  this  week," 
was  her  husband's  grim  rejoinder. 

And  this  was  only  one  little  instance  of  many 
that  made  Ethel  sure  that  Fanny  Carr  was  still 
about.  She  was  getting  at  Joe  through  his  busi 
ness  side,  going  to  his  office.  She  had  asked  him 
to  sell  her  house  on  Long  Island,  and  through  this 
transaction  she  had  tangled  him  into  her  affairs. 
A  lone  woman,  defenceless  in  business,  needing 
the' aid  and  advice  of  a  man.  "Oh,  I  can  almost 
hear  her  lay  it  on — her  helplessness ! ' '  And  Ethel 
fairly  ground  her  teeth.  For  Fanny,  only  the  day 
before,  having  called  and  noticed  that  a  sofa  and 
a  rug  were  missing,  had  asked  to  what  dealer  Ethel 
had  sold  them.  "Now,"  thought  Ethel,  "she'll 
buy  them  herself,  and  then  she'll  ask  Joe  to  drop 
in  for  tea  at  her  hotel  apartment — 'on  business,' 
of  course — but  the  rug  and  sofa  will  be  there! 
Poor  Amy's  things!  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  Fanny  is 
clever  enough !  If  only  she  would  take  his  money 
— and  get  out  and  leave  us  alone!" 

Ethel  had  some  lonely  grapples  with  life.  She 
was  right,  she  angrily  told  herself,  in  wanting  to 
go  slowly  until  she  could  discover  real  friends; 
but  on  the  other  hand  she  admitted  that  Joe  had 
reason  for  being  impatient.  At  thirty-seven  it  is 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  151 

hard  for  a  man  to  change  his  habits,  and  Amy  had 
accustomed  Joe  to  crave  excitement  every  night. 
Even  Ethel  herself,  in  some  of  her  moods,  felt 
restless  to  go  about  and  be  gay.  And  again  and 
again  the  youth  in  her  rebelled  against  the  trap 
into  which  she  had  fallen. 

"The  minute  I  even  propose  a  play,  I  show  him 
I'm  well  enough  to  go  out.  And  then  he  asks, 
'Why  not  Amy's  friends!'  And  he  remembers 
the  mean  little  things  that  Fanny  Carr  must  have 
told  him — the  beast! — and  so  he  says,  'I  see  it  all. 
Ethel  is  only  bluffing.  Now  that  I'm  rich  she's 
trying  to  make  me  drop  the  friends  and  the  mem 
ory  of  the  wife  who  stood  by  me  when  I  was 
poor.'  " 

Ethel  even  went  out  twice  to  their  detestable 
parties,  in  the  faint  hope  of  finding  one  woman  at 
least  she  would  care  to  know.  But  if  there  had 
been  any  such,  Fanny  was  careful  to  leave  them 
out. 

Friends,  friends,  friends  of  her  own!  Where 
to  find  them?  On  the  streets,  as  she  went  about 
at  her  shopping,  she  saw  so  many  attractive  peo 
ple,  and  she  drew  their  glances,  too.  She  had  de 
veloped  since  her  marriage ;  she  had  a  distinctive 
beauty,  and  she  had  learned  how  to  foster  that. 
Almost  always  she  felt  the  hungry  eyes  of  men, 
good,  bad  and  indifferent,  rich  men,  beggars, 


52  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Christians,  Jews.  But  that  of  course  was  only 
Lnnoying.  Ethel  wanted  women  friends.  On  the 
.treat,  from  her  elegant  little  car,  she  could  see 
yomen  who  were  walking  glance  at  her  with  envy, 
ust  as  she  herself  had  done  in  her  first  year  in 
he  city.  The  thought  brought  a  humorous  smile 
o  her  lips.  And  looking  at  the  constant  stream 
>f  motors  passing,  she  inquired,  "How  many  of 
is  are  there,  in  this  imposing  procession,  who 
laven't  a  single  friend  in  town?"  How  they  all 
)assed  on.  How  coolly  indifferent,  self-absorbed ! 
Was  there  no  entering  wedge  to  their  lives?  * 

But  her  youth  would  rise  with  a  sudden  rush  in 
ler  warm  body,  so  smartly  dressed,  so  tingling 
dth  ardent  health,  and  glancing  into  the  glass  in 
ier  car  and  making  a  little  face  at  herself,  she 
yould  exclaim, 

"Oh,  fiddlesticks!  All  this  is  going  to  have  a 
lice  fine  happy  ending !  Nothing  awful  is  to  hap- 
)en  to  me!" 

At  one  such  time,  as  though  interrupted,  she 
eaned  quickly  and  graciously  forward,  as  she  had 
>een  women  do  in  the  Park,  and  bowed  with  a 
jordial  little  smile — to  a  vacant  lot — and  then 
Burning  back  to  the  imagined  friend  at  her  side, 
she  said  sweetly, 

"Excuse  me,  dear.    What  were  you  saying? 

.  .  "Why  yes,  we'd  love  to.     Thursday  night? 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  153 

What  time  do  you  dine?"  A  lump  rose  in  her 
throat.  "Now,  Ethel,  Ethel,  you  soft  little  fool 
— you're  only  twenty-five,  you  know.  And  of  all 
the  adorable  babies  waiting  in  a  nursery — " 

One  day  she  found  Fifth  Avenue  crammed  and 
jammed  with  a  huge  parade.  She  had  her  chauf 
feur  get  as  close  as  he  could,  and  with  intent  and 
curious  eyes  she  watched  the  suffragists  march 
by.  What  hosts  and  hosts  of  women,  how  jolly 
and  how  friendly.  Oh,  what  a  lark  they  were  hav 
ing  together !  Why  not  join  them,  then  and  there? 
For  an  instant  she  thought  of  leaving  her  car  and 
falling  right  in  with  some  marching  group.  "But 
how  do  I  know  they  won't  turn  me  down?"  She 
waited  and  lost  courage.  Soon  she  saw  marching 
ahead  of  one  section  a  smartly  dressed  woman 
whose  photograph  she  had  often  seen  in  the  pa 
pers.  At  this  Ethel's  courage  oozed  again,  and 
with  a  pang  of  envy  she  thought, 

"Oh.  yes,  this  is  all  very  fine  for  you!  You're 
so  safe  and  settled  here;  you've  got  position — 
everything ! ' ' 

In  a  moment  she  felt  this  was  small  and  mean. 
The  envy  and  the  bitterness  passed.  She  watched 
other  women,  such  confident,  easy,  bright-looking 
creatures — not  at  all  like  Amy's  set — who  looked 
as  though  they  could  preside  at  big  meetings  or  at 


154  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

their  own  tables  at  home,  and  be  gracious  and  say 
witty  things  to  the  clever  men  at  their  sides.  Be 
hind  them  came  whole  regiments  of  women  and 
girls  of  a  simpler  kind.  Some  of  them  earned 
their  own  living,  no  doubt — yes,  and  had  to  work 
hard  to  do  it. 

"Wouldn't  they  do?  Look  at  that  one! 
Wouldn't  I  like  her  for  a  friend?" 

In  a  flash  Ethel  remembered  the  little  history 
"prof"  at  home,  who  had  begged  her  girls  to  live 
and  grow. 

"Now,  Ethel  Lanier,  you're  going  to  get  right 
out  of  this  car  and  fall  into  line — friends  or  no 
friends ! ' ' 

In  a  moment,  scowling  to  keep  up  her  nerve, 
she  was  pushing  through  the  standers-by  right  out 
into  the  Avenue;  and  feeling  like  a  public  sight, 
she  tried  quickly  to  get  into  line. 

"You  can't  march  here!  Our  line  is  full!"  a 
voice  said  sharply.  Ethel  gasped  and  reddened, 
turned  blindly  to  the  file  behind. 

"Do  you  want  to  march  with  us?"  somebody 
asked. 

"Yes!    Oh,  thank  you!" 

"Fall  right  in.  That's  right,  my  dear — here, 
take  one  of  my  flags." 

6  (  You  're  awfully  kind ! ' ' 

"Hooray  for  the  vote!" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  155 

Through  eyes  a  little  misty  Ethel  saw  striding 
along  at  her  side  a  sturdy  little  old  lady  in  black. 
And  she  blessed  her  fervently.  It  was  a  thrilling 
marvellous  time.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  she  felt 
herself  boon  companions  with  every  one  in  her 
line.  But  then,  before  she  realized  what  it  was 
that  had  happened,  her  group  had  reached  the 
end  of  their  march  and  had  melted  suddenly  into  a 
throng  of  chattering  laughing  women.  Ethel 
stared  about  her  blindly. 

" Never  mind,"  she  decided,  "I'm  going  to  see 
more  of  this!" 

And  the  next  day  she  presented  herself  at  suf 
frage  headquarters. 

"I  want  to  work,"  she  said  to  a  girl  at  a  desk. 
The  girl  looked  up  at  her  busily. 

"All  right,  go  to  that  table,"  she  answered. 

And  at  a  long  oak  table,  one  of  a  dozen  women 
and  girls,  Ethel  folded  envelopes  and  addressed 
them  for  about  three  hours.  Down  at  the  end, 
two  girl  companions  chatted  and  laughed  at  their 
labour.  But  the  rest  were  just  busy.  "Hand  me 
those  envelopes,  if  you  please."  And  so  it  was 
all  through  the  room.  She  came  back  the  next 
morning  and  the  next ;  and  as  she  worked,  her  ex 
pression  was  grim.  "It  isn't  their  fault,"  she 
decided.  "They  want  the  vote,  they  don't  want 


156  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

And  she  turned  forlornly  back  to  the  work  of 
moving  up  to  her  new  apartment. 

The  first  of  May  was  drawing  near,  and  she  saw 
signs  of  restlessness,  as  thousands  of  New  Yorkers 
prepared  to  change  their  quarters.  Moving,  al 
ways  moving.  Did  they  never  stop  in  one  place 
and  make  it  a  home?  The  big  building  in  which 
Ethel  lived  took  on  an  impersonal  air,  as  though 
saying,  "What  do  I  care?  I'm  all  concrete,  with 
good  hard  steel  inside  of  that."  What  a  queer 
place  for  people's  homes!  People  moving  in  and 
out!  Curiously  she  probed  into  its  life.  She 
had  long  ago  made  friends  with  the  wife  of  the 
superintendent,  and  through  her  Ethel  collected 
bits  about  these  many  families  so  close  together 
and  yet  so  apart ;  all  troubles  kept  strictly  out  of 
sight,  with  the  freight  elevator  for  funerals,  cool 
looks  and  never  a  word  of  greeting.  "Keep  off," 
writ  clear  on  every  face. 

"It  isn't  real,  this  living!  It  can't  last!"  she 
exclaimed  to  herself.  "They'll  have  to  work  out 
something  better  than  this — something,  oh,  much 
homier ! ' '  She  thought  of  the  old  frame  house  in 
Ohio.  "That's  gone,"  she  declared,  with  a  swal 
low. 

Her  acquaintance  with  young  Mrs.  Grewe  was 
still  the  one  bright  spot  at  such  times.  When 
Ethel  felt  blue  she  would  go  upstairs  to  the  sunny 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  157 

new  home  that  was  to  be  hers ;  and  there  the  blithe 
welcome  she  received  restored  her  own  belief  in 
herself.  Mrs.  Grewe  would  often  lead  her  to  talk 
of  her  home  in  Ohio,  the  eager  dreams  and  plans 
of  her  girlhood ;  and  on  her  side,  the  young  widow 
gave  pictures  of  life  in  London  and  Paris  as  she 
had  seen  it  so  many  times.  They  still  shopped  to 
gether  occasionally. 

But  one  afternoon  about  six  o'clock,  as  Ethel's 
car  drew  up  at  the  door  and  she  and  her  one  friend 
got  out,  Joe  came  along — and  with  one  quick  angry 
look  he  hurried  into  the  building.  Quite  furious 
and  ashamed  for  him,  Ethel  turned  to  her  com 
panion — but  Mrs.  Grewe  smiled  queerly  and  held 
out  her  small  gloved  hand. 

"Good-bye,  my  dear,  it  has  been  so  nice — this 
afternoon  and  all  the  others."  Her  tone  was  a 
curious  mixture  of  amused  defiance  and  real  re 
gret.  Ethel  stammered  something,  but  in  a  mo 
ment  her  friend  was  gone. 

Upstairs  she  met  Joe  with  an  angry  frown,  but 
to  her  indignant  reproaches  he  replied  by  a  quiz 
zical  smile. 

"Look  here,  Ethel."  He  took  her  arm,  in  a 
kind  protecting  sort  of  way  which  made  her  fairly 
boil.  "Look  here.  I  can't  let  you  go  about  with 
a  shady  little  person  like  that.  I  didn't  know 
you'd  picked  her  up.  Now,  now — I  understand, 


158  JEIS    SECOND    WIFE 

of  course — you  met  her  up  there  in  the  new  apart 
ment.  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  thought  of 
it." 

"Thought  of  what?    For  goodness  sake!" 

"She  won't  do,  that's  all." 

"Why  won't  she?"  Ethel's  colour  was  sud 
denly  high  and  her  brown  eyes  had  a  dangerous 
gleam.  Joe  looked  at  her,  hesitating. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "you're  the  kind  of  a  girl  who 
has  to  be  told  the  truth  now  and  then.  She's  the 
mistress  of  one  of  our  big  millionaires." 

Ethel  stared  at  him  blankly. 

"I  don't  believe  it!"  she  cried.  "Her  taste! 
The  way  she  dresses !  Her— her  voice— the  things 
she  says!" 

"I  know,  I  know,"  he  answered.  "That  sort  is 
rare  and  they  come  high.  I've  talked  to  her—" 

' '  Oh,  you  have,  have  you !  Then  why  shouldn  't 
I?" 

"Because,  my  dear,  I'm  one  of  the  owners  of 
this  building.  My  talks  were  brief— just  busi 
ness." 

"What  business  had  you  letting  her  in?" 

"Because  times  were  bad  three  years  ago  and 
tenants  weren't  so  easy  to  find.  What  harm  has 
she  done?  This  isn't  a  social  club,  you  know " 

"I  know   it  isn't!    Nobody   speaks — or   even 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  159 

smiles!"  A  lump  rose  in  Ethel's  throat.  "And 
she  was  so  nice  and  friendly ! ' ' 

"I '11  bet  she  was— " 

"I  won't  believe  it!"  Now  her  face  was  red 
dening  with  self -mortification.  "Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me — living  like  that — with  a  companion,  even 
— a  prim  old  maid  who  looks  as  though  she  had 
left  Boston  only  last  night — " 

A  twinkle  came  into  her  husband's  eyes:  "My 
dear,  the  friend  of  a  ~big  millionaire  always  keeps 
some  one  from  Boston  close  by."  His  arm  went 
around  her.  "Poor  little  girl.  I  guess  I  won't 
have  to  say  any  more — " 

"Perhaps  you  will  and  perhaps  you  won't!" 
Now  again  she  was  nearly  choking  with  rage  and 
with  hurt  vanity.  Her  one  and  only  companion! 
The  only  woman  she  had  been  clever  enough  to 
find !  That  kind !  Oh-h !  Suddenly  she  turned  to 
Joe  to  tell  him  that  if  he  could  give  her  no  friends 
she  'd  pick  and  choose  just  where  she  liked !  But 
quickly  she  remembered  that  he  would  answer, 
' '  Haven 't  I  tried  ? ' '  She  turned  away,  broke  into 
tears  and  left  the  room. 

Out  of  the  little  storm  that  followed,  she 
emerged  at  last  with  the  thought,  "Well,  I  must 
see  her,  anyway,  in  the  work  of  moving  into  her 
apartment.  And  am  I  sorry?  Not  at  all!  She 


160  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

was  good  to  me— at  least  she  was  that !  And  be 
sides,"  reflected  Ethel,  with  the  same  caution  and 
relief  which  she  had  so  despised  in  New  Yorkers, 
" she's  going  soon.  It's  safe  enough." 

The  talk  occurred  the  next  morning,  up  in  the 
new  apartment.  There  were  no  awkward  prelimi 
naries,  for  Mrs.  Grewe's  whole  manner  had 
changed.  Quite  a  bit  of  its  careful  refinement  was 
gone,  and  in  its  place  was  a  rather  bitter  frank 
ness. 

"I  quite  understand — you  needn't  explain,"  she 
said  at  once.  "Your  husband  has  made  a  fuss, 
hasn't  he?  And  this  is  good-bye.  Too  bad,  isn't 
it?" 

"Yes— it  is."  Ethel  hesitated,  then  all  at  once 
she  beamed  on  her  friend.  * 1 1  want  you  to  know, ' ' 
she  stoutly  declared,  "that  neither  is  my  hus 
band  my  boss  nor  am  I  a  prig!  Back  in  school, 
we  girls — we  used  to  talk — and  read  and  discuss 
things — Bernard  Shaw — " 

Her  hostess  smiled : 

"Oh,  Shaw,  my  dear,  is  a  dear,  witty  man — 
and  he's  so  funny  and  so  fair.  But  to  live  with 
him — ugh! — rather  icy!"  She  laughed.  "See 
here.  No  matter  what  you  have  read,  you've 
never  met  me  until  now.  I  mean  the  big  Me  that 
thrills  all  girls — who  speak  about  me  in  whispers. 
Well,  then,  just  for  a  minute,  meet  me — look  at 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  161 

me  and  see  what  I  am."  On  her  piquante  little 
face  was  a  look  of  friendly  challenge.  "We've 
had  such  fine  little  shopping  bees,  and  I'd  like  you 
not  to  be  sorry.  And  what  I  want  to  say  is  this : 

1 '  I  was  just  like  you.  /  came  from  a  small  town 
— /  had  my  dreams— I  reached  New  York— I  mar 
ried.  ' '  She  smiled.  ' l  Not  once  but  twice.  I  was 
divorced.  And  my  second  was  a  love  of  a  man, 
and  we  had  such  a  blissful  honeymoon.  It  lasted 
a  year  and  a  half,  and  then — he  got  taking  things 
— dope — and  that  made  it  hard.  It  ended  in  an 
other  divorce.  The  next  man  didn't  marry  me. 
Meant  to,  you  know,  but  hadn't  time.  Then  he 
passed  on — "  with  a  wave  of  her  hand — "and 
now  I'm  here."  A  humorous  smile  came  over 
her  face.  "And  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  how 
changed  it  is  from  when  I  was  married.  The 
same  sort  of  apartment,  only  it's  nicer — the  same 
ocean  liners  and  hotels — the  same  cafes  where  one 
can  dance  exactly  as  one  did  before."  Again  she 
wrinkled  up  her  brows.  "The  only  real  differ 
ence  I  can  see  is  that  when  I  was  married  like 
you,  my  husband  only  told  me  the  truth  once  in 
a  while — as  yours  did  last  night — while  now  they 
tell  it  all  the  time.  Oh,  I'm  wise,  I'm  wise,  my 
dear — for  one  so  young.  I  'm  twenty-eight.  How 
old  are  you?" 

"  I  'm  twenty-five. ' ' 


162  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"  Three  years  behind.    Well,  on  the  whole  I 
guess  I'd  stay  married  if  I  were  you.    It's  so  nice, 
if  he's  still  in  love  with  you.    But  the  minute  he 
isn't,  or  makes  any  fuss,  or  gets  ugly  or  mean, 
remember   this."    And   her    sweet,    clear   voice 
grew  impressive.    ' '  Eemember  then  you  can  never 
be  sure  what  he's  really  doing  in  this  town.     I 
know — because  they  tell  me — and  most  of  them 
are  married  men.    And  second,  and  last  and  al 
ways — remember,  rriy  dear,  that  with  your  figure 
and  your  face  and  your  lovely  hair  which  you  do 
so  well,  you  don't  have  to  put  up  with  any  man! 
You  can  get  right  out  whenever  you  please !    And 
the  only  trouble  will  be  to  choose  your  next  from 
all  the  others  who  will  come  'crowding  about  you ! 
And  whether  you  make  him  marry  you — well — 
I  honestly  think  there's  not  much  choice." 
She  rose  and  said,  with  a  strange  little  smile, 
"Now  that  I've  had  my  little  revenge  on  your 
beast  of  a  husband  for  spoiling  it  all,  when  I 
wasn't  doing  the  least  bit  of  harm  and  was  leaving 
anyhow  this  week— let's  say  good-bye  and  each 
get  to  our  packing." 

"She  was  once  like  me.  I  could  be  like  her," 
thought  Ethel  late  that  night.  She  had  been  lying 
awake  for  hours.  '  <  I  could  be— but  I  won 't ! "  she 
declared.  "She  had  read  Shaw.  How  funny! 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  163 

...  I  think  it 's  a  mighty  big  mistake  to  let  young 
girls  read  Bernard  Shaw.  Susette  certainly 
shan't!"  Her  lips  compressed.  In  a  moment 
she  was  frowning. 

"How  easily  Joe  changed  about  from  loving 
Amy  to  loving  me.  Here  he  lies  asleep  at  my  side. 
Where  was  he  today?  What  do  I  know?  .  .  . 
Oh,  Ethel  Lanier,  don't  be  a  fool  and  let  every 
cheap  little  woman  you  meet  get  you  thinking 
things!  Such  silly  things!  ...  I  do  wish  that 
odious  Fanny  Carr  would  get  out  of  my  life  and 
stay  out!  .  .  .  You'd  better  be  very  careful,  Joe." 
She  had  risen  on  her  elbow  now,  and  by  the  dim 
light  from  the  window  she  could  just  see  her  hus 
band's  face.  "Because  if  you're  not  very  good 
to  me — remember  that  a  person  whom  you  your 
self  consider  one  of  the  very  best  of  her  kind — 
told  me  that  I—" 

She  dropped  back.  All  at  once  her  face  was 
burning. 

"Oh,  how  I  loathe  all  this!"  she  thought, 
"And  how  silly  and  untrue!  Do  you  want  to 
know  where  you  and  I  are  different,  little  Mrs. 
Grewe?  I'll  tell  you!  I  have  a  baby!  And 
when  he  grows  up  he's  going  to  have  this  same 
man  still  for  a  father!  So  there!  I'm  not  sure 
about  anything,  even  God,  any  more  in  this  town 
— it's  all  a  whirl!  But  I've  got  a  baby,  and 


164  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Susette,  and  for  them  I'm  going  to  have  a  real 
home — keep  wide  awake,  make  friends  I'll  love — 
and  grow  and  learn  and  march  in  parades — and 
go  to  the  opera  in  a  box — and  go  to  concerts,  go 
abroad,  shop  in  Paris — love  my  husband — be  very 
gay— make  friends,  friends— I  will,  I  will— I 
won't  be  downed— I'll  beat  this  cat  of  a  city-— 
"However.  Now  I'll  go  to  sleep. " 


CHAPTER  XV 

SHE  did  not  see  Mrs.  Grewe  again,  she  did  not 
want  to  see  her.  It  was  not  until  from  the 
telephone  girl  she  learned  that  the  charming 
young  widow  was  gone,  that  Ethel  went  up  to  her 
new  home.  In  a  little  while  her  furniture  would 
begin  to  pour  in,  but  as  yet  the  rooms  were  empty, 
flooded  with  warm  sunshine.  She  looked  about 
and  thought  of  the  life  which  had  been  here,  and 
then  of  Mrs.  Grewe  7s  advice  and  her  last  smiling 
admonition.  She  could  almost  hear  the  voice. 

"Is  every  place  I  live  in  to  be  haunted?"  Ethel 
asked  herself.  And  then  with  a  humorous  little 
scowl:  "Now  see  here,  young  woman,  the  sooner 
you  learn  that  every  apartment  in  this  city  has  a 
complete  equipment  of  ghosts,  the  better  it  will  be 
for  you.  I  don't  care  who  lived  here,  nor  how  she 
lived  nor  what  she  said.  I  don't  need  her  advice, 
and  her  life  is  not  to  affect  mine  in  the  slightest ! ' ' 
She  stopped  short.  Of  whom  was  she  speaking, 
Mrs.  Grewe  or  Amy?  There  were  two  of  them 
now !  Both  had  given  her  advice,  and  in  each  case 
the  life  portrayed  had  been  very  much  alike,  so 
much  so  as  to  be  rather  disturbing.  Things  were 
certainly  queer  in  this  town ! 

165 


166  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

' ' Very  well,  my  dears/'  she  said  amiably,  "if 
I  must  be  haunted,  it's  much  more  gay  and  so 
ciable  to  have  two  instead  of  one.  Eemember  tea 
will  be  served  at  five,  and  from  the  present  out 
look  there 's  little  chance  of  our  being  disturbed  by 
the  intrusion  of  any  live  woman  in  New  York. 
...  At  least  the  ghosts  are  friendly."  She  sud 
denly  compressed  her  lips  and  looked  about: 
"However!"  She  went  to  the  telephone  in  the 
hall:  "Please  hurry  up  those  porters!  I'm  up 
here  waiting  to  begin ! ' ' 

And  in  the  days  that  followed,  she  was  far  too 
engrossed  in  "settling"  to  spare  any  time  for 
brooding  on  phantoms.  "A  home  of  my  own  and 
a  life  of  my  own,  to  be  lived  with  my  own  hus 
band!"  But  when  at  last  they  were  settled,  and 
Joe  in  a  dear,  genial  mood  had  gone  about  admir 
ing,  and  taking  no  notice  apparently  of  the  scarcity 
of  Amy's  things— he  turned  to  Ethel  with  an  air 
which  was  meant  to  be  easy  and  natural : 

"Well,  now  that  we're  taking  a  fresh  start,  the 
time  has  come  for  a  little  talk." 

"What  about?"  she  asked,  endeavouring  to 
make  her  smile  as  easy  as  his. 

"It  will  take  about  one  minute."  His  gruff 
voice  was  low  and  kind.  "I'm  not  going  to  force 
my  friends  on  you.  If  you  want  to  make  friends 


•      HIS   SECOND   WIFE  167 

of  your  own,  go  ahead.  And  when  you  get  them 
let  me  know — and  they'll  be  mine,  too,  if  I  have 
to  break  a  leg  in  the  effort.  I'll  dance  in  front 
of  them,  so  to  speak,  until  they're  all  enchanted. 
But  in  the  meantime,  on  your  side,  I  want  you  to 
let  me  down  easy  with  these  people  I  once  knew. 
I  don't  want  to  hurt  them  or  be  a  cad.  A  few  I 
may  keep  in  touch  with  for  years." 

4  *  Fanny !"  flashed  into  Ethel's  mind. 

44 And  all  I  ask  of  you  is  this.  You'll  soon  be 
going  away  for  the  summer.  Let's  do  the  decent 
thing — just  once — and  have  a  little  party  here.  I 
give  you  my  word  we  won't  do  it  again." 

"All  right,  Joe — that's  fair,  of  course — and  I'll 
do  my  best  to  make  it  exactly  what  you  want." 

And  in  the  dinner  that  she  gave,  Ethel  lived 
up  to  her  bargain.  The  dinner  was  large;  there 
were  twenty  guests.  The  caterer  was  as  before, 
and  so  were  the  food  and  the  flowers.  And  all 
through  the  evening  Ethel  was  gracious  and  affa 
ble.  But  behind  her  affability,  hidden  but  subtly 
conveyed  to  each  guest,  was  a  serene  good-bye  to 
them.  This  was  their  dismissal.  Did  they  all 
feel  it,  every  one?  To  her  at  least  it  seemed  so. 
Again  and  again  she  caught  the  men  throwing 
looks  of  regret  at  Joe,  and  the  women  glancing 
about  the  rooms  as  though  in  search  of  what  was 


168  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

gone.  Amy's  things?  Oh,  more  than  that.  The 
whole  atmosphere  was  gone.  This  was  the  home 
of  the  second  wife. 

"Well,  dear,  did  I  live  up  to  our  bargain?"  she 
asked  her  husband  when  they  were  alone. 

"You  did,"  said  Joe.  He  looked  at  her  then 
in  such  a  puzzled,  masculine  fashion.  What  she 
had  done  and  how  she  had  done  it  was  plainly  such 
a  mystery  to  him.  "You  did,"  he  repeated  loy 
ally.  She  slipped  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Thank  you,  love,"  she  answered.  And  in  a 
moment  or  two  she  murmured,  "Have  them  again 
in  the  Fall  if  you  like." 

"No,"  said  Joe.     "Once  was  enough." 

"Now,"  she  asked  herself  the  next  day,  "let's 
try  to  see  what  all  this  means."  She  was  almost 
speaking  aloud.  She  was  growing  so  accustomed 
to  these  sociable  little  chats  with  herself.  "It 
means  that  I  am  getting  on.  But  Fanny  Carr  will 
still  be  about.  She  won't  come  here  except  just 
enough  to  keep  up  appearances,  but  she'll  still 
have  her  business  dealings  with  Joe  in  the  man 
agement  of  her  property.  He  means  to  keep  in 
touch,  he  said,  'with  a  few  of  them' — meaning  her, 
of  course — and  his  tone  conveyed  quite  plainly 
that  I  am  to  leave  him  alone  in  that  until  I  can 
produce  friends  of  my  own.  Whereupon,  my 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  169 

dear,"  she  threw  up  her  hands,  "we  come  back  to 
exactly  the  same  point  at  which  we  have  been  all 
along.  Where  am  I  going  to  find  friends?'9  And 
she  gave  an  angry,  baffled  sigh.  * '  Oh,  damn  New 
York!" 

As  she  glared  viciously  about  the  pretty,  sunny 
living  room,  the  image  of  its  former  tenant  rose 
up  in  her  memory.  And  Ethel's  expression 
changed  at  once,  became  intent  and  thoughtful. 
How  much  more  attractive  was  Mrs.  Grewe  than 
were  any  of  Amy's  set.  Immoral?  Yes,  decid 
edly.  But  what  did  "immoral"  mean  in  this 
town?  Who  was  moral?  Fanny  Carr?  Did 
these  wives  and  divorcees  do  any  good  with  their 
"moral"  lives?  She  recalled  what  Mrs.  Grewe 
had  said:  "And  whether  you  marry  or  whether 
you  don't,  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  any  differ 
ence.  ' '  And  again :  * '  With  your  face  and  figure, 
my  dear,  you  don't  have  to  put  up  with  any  one 
man."  Ethel  sat  frowning  straight  before  her. 
"What  kind  of  a  life  am  I  going  to  find?  I'm 
going  to  stay  with  my  husband — that's  sure.  I'm 
in  love  with  him  and  he  with  me.  That  much  is 
decided." 

She  rose  abruptly,  and  walking  the  floor  she 
firmly  resolved  to  "be  wholesome"  and  look  on 
the  bright  side  of  things.  In  the  next  few  weeks 
she  busied  herself  with  the  small  affairs  of  her 


170  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

household.  There  was  plenty  to  occupy  her  mind. 
There  were  finishing  touches  to  give  to  the  rooms ; 
there  were  Spring  clothes  to  buy  for  Susette ;  and 
the  baby  was  ready  for  short  dresses  and  a  baby 
carriage.  There  was  the  life  in  the  nursery,  a 
cheerful  little  world  in  itself.  There  was  Martha, 
grown  more  friendly  now,  and  Emily  and  the  new 
waitress,  Anne,  and  the  telephone  girl  and  the 
chauffeur  and  the  clerks  in  various  shops  who  had 
become  acquaintances — altogether  quite  a  circle  of 
people  who  greeted  Ethel  on  her  rounds.  One 
day  as  she  passed  a  laundry  shop  she  spied  this 
sign  in  the  window:  "Fine  linen  respectfully 
treated. ' '  And  Ethel  chuckled  at  the  thought  that 
she  herself  was  treated  like  that.  On  the  whole 
it  was  rather  pleasant,  though,  and  she  made  the 
most  of  it.  She  was  being  carefully  "whole 
some." 

Now  it  was  well  along  in  June,  time  for  the  chil 
dren  to  go  to  the  seashore,  so  she  began  to  hunt 
for  a  place.  At  the  traveller's  bureaus  she  visited 
she  found  the  clerks  more  than  ready  to  give  ad 
vice  by  the  hour  to  this  gracious  young  creature 
so  stylishly  clad.  And  she  had  soon  selected  a 
quiet  little  resort  in  Ehode  Island. 

But  what  was  Joe  doing  all  this  time?  She  did 
not  mean  to  keep  prying,  but  for  the  life  of  her 
she  could  not  help  throwing  out  casual  inquiries. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  171 

His  reply  was  always,  "  Business  ";  and  he  would 
go  on  to  give  her  details — all  of  which  were  tire 
some.  How  much  was  he  seeing  of  Fanny  Carr 
and  her  detestable  money  affairs?  His  manner, 
engrossed  as  it  had  grown,  and  even  irritable  at 
times,  made  Ethel  feel  he  was  putting  her  further 
and  further  out  of  that  part  of  his  existence  which 
now  interested  him  most,  the  part  that  lay  outside 
his  home.  Was  it  all  business,  all  of  it?  "And 
when  I  go  to  the  seashore,  he'll  be  here  five  nights 
a  week!"  Sometimes  he  came  in  so  late  at  night ! 
Business?  At  such  an  hour?  "Now  carefully, 
carefully,  Ethel  Lanier. ' '  But  in  spite  of  herself 
the  smiling  words  of  young  Mrs.  Grewe  recurred 
to  her  mind:  "Most  of  them  are  married  men." 

Ethel's  doubts,  however,  were  all  ended  late  one 
night,  when  at  the  sound  of  his  key  in  the  door  she 
got  out  of  bed  and  came  into  the  doorway  of  her 
room.  Joe  was  standing  in  the  hall.  He  did  not 
see  her.  In  fact,  his  eyes,  when  he  switched  on 
the  light,  seemed  to  see  nothing  in  the  world  but 
the  package  of  business  papers  he  took  from  his 
overcoat.  His  face  was  haggard  but  intent.  He 
turned  and  went  into  his  study  to  work.  And  any 
suspicion  of  Fanny  Carr,  or  of  any  other  friend 
of  Joe's,  was  swept  at  once  from  Ethel's  mind. 
Her  rival  was  his  business. 

And  later  at  the  seashore,  where  she  had  so 


172  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

many  hours  alone,  she  thought  about  this  work  of 
his  with  deepening  hostility.  Her  mind  went  back 
into  the  past.  How  his  office  had  always  absorbed 
him.  What  a  refuge  it  had  been  in  the  months 
that  followed  Amy's  death.  "I  wasn't  the  one 
who  first  made  him  forget.  Oh,  no,  it  was  his 
business!"  And  now,  as  it  had  weaned  him  once 
from  his  grief  for  the  woman  who  had  died,  it  was 
at  him  again  to  draw  him  away  from  the  woman 
who  was  living. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  it  was  not  so,  when 
she  could  keep  him  late  at  breakfast  and  make  him 
come  home  early  at  night,  still  fresh  enough  to 
read  and  talk,  discuss  things,  go  to  the  opera,  take 
up  his  music,  plan  a  trip  to  Paris.  "Oh,  yes! 
Then  we  were  making  a  start!"  But  now  this 
wretched  work  of  his  had  got  him  worse  than  ever 
before — and  she  blamed  his  partner  for  that. 
She  recalled  how  Nourse  had  disliked  her,  she  re 
membered  what  Amy  used  to  say  about  the  man's 
worship  of  business.  Yes,  with  his  detestable 
greed  for  money,  only  money,  Nourse  was  doubt 
less  driving  Joe.  "You're  making  him  just  a 
business  man,  without  a  thought  or  a  wish  in  his 
head  for  anything  beautiful,  really  fine,  ambition, 
things  he  dreamed  of  and  told  me  about  when  he 
was  mine — things  that  would  have  led  us  both  to 
everything  I  wanted — " 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  173 

She  set  her  lips  and  whispered : 

"All  right,  friend  Bill,  then  it's  you  or  it's  me!" 

And  all  the  rest  of  the  summer  she  set  herself 
determinedly  to  breaking  up  the  partnership. 

"Joe,  dear,"  she  said  pleasantly,  when  he  had 
come  out  for  the  week  end,  "why  don't  you  ever 
bring  your  partner  with  you  over  Sunday!" 
And  at  his  quick  look  of  surprise,  "It  seems  too 
bad,  I  think,"  she  added,  "never  to  have  him  with 


us." 


"I  thought  you  didn't  like  him,"  he  said. 
Ethel  gave  a  frank  little  smile. 

"I  didn't — but  that  was  a  year  ago.  And  be 
sides,  he  didn't  like  me,  you  see.  But  people  do 
change,  I  suppose — and  as  long  as  he  means  so 
much  to  you,  I  should  so  like  to  be  friendly." 

It  turned  out  just  as  she  had  expected.  Nourse 
declined  the  invitation.  "I'm  sorry,"  she  said 
when  her  husband  told  her.  She  felt  her  position 
strengthened  a  bit.  At.  another  time  she  sug 
gested  that  Joe's  partner  be  asked  to  spend  the 
rest  of  the  summer  with  him  in  the  apartment 
back  in  town.  It  was  doubtless  so  much  cooler 
at  night  than  Nourse 's  bachelor  quarters.  And 
Emily  Giles  could  take  care  of  them  both.  But 
this  overture,  too,  Bill  Nourse  declined.  She 
could  just  imagine  him  doing  it,  the  surly,  ungra 
cious  tone  of  his  voice,  the  very  worst  side  of  the 


174  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

man  shown  up.  Joe  often  now  looked  troubled 
when  Ethel  talked  of  his  partner. 

But  toward  the  end  of  the  summer  in  one  such 
talk  he  gave  her  a  shock.  It  was  after  Nourse  had 
again  refused  an  invitation  to  come  to  the  sea 
shore. 

"He's  queer,"  said  Joe,  "and  he  can  be  ugly. 
Being  polite  is  not  in  Bill's  line.  I  told  him  so 
myself  today — and  we  had  quite  a  session." 

"Oh,  Joe,  I'm  sorry,"  Ethel  said. 

"You  needn't  be.  Bill  Nourse  and  I  will  stick 
together  as  long  as  we  live. ' '  Ethel  looked  at  him 
sharply,  but  he  did  not  notice.  "Because,"  he 
said,  "with  all  his  faults,  his  queerness  and  his 
grouches,  Bill  has  done  more  than  any  man  living 
to — well,  to  keep  something  alive  in  me — in  my 
work,  I  mean — that  I  want  later  on — as  soon  as 
I've  made  money  enough."  She  stared  at  him. 

"You  mean  that  he — your  partner — wants 
something  more  than  money?"  It  was  a  slip,  but 
she  was  stunned.  He  turned  and  looked  at  her 
and  asked,  in  a  voice  rather  strained  and  husky, 

"Do  you  think  Bill  cares  about  money  alone!" 

"Why,  yes!" 

"That's  funny."  But  Joe's  laugh  was  grim. 
"If  Bill  had  had  his  way  with  me,  I'd  have  had  a 
name  as  an  architect  that  would  have  been  known 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  175 

all  over  the  country — instead  of  being  what  I  am, 
a  gambler  in  cheap  real  estate. ' ' 

She  questioned  him  further,  her  manner  alert, 
her  eyes  with  a  startled,  thoughtful  look.  But  he 
did  not  seem  to  want  to  talk. 

"Then  why,"  she  asked  herself  in  a  daze,  "if 
Bill  is  so  against  this  business,  does  he  keep  at 
it  day  and  night?  Oh,  yes,  we'll  have  to  look  into 
this — as  soon  as  I  get  back  to  town!  You've  got 
to  come  and  see  me,  and  explain  yourself,  friend 
Bill."  She  frowned  in  such  a  puzzled  way. 
«  <  You,  a  friend  I  How  funny ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  week  after  Ethel's  return  to  town,  she 
was  surprised  one  afternoon  when  in  re 
sponse  to  a  note  she  had  sent  him  her  husband's 
partner  came  to  see  her.     She  had  thought  it 
would  be  more  difficult. 

"Joe  won't  interrupt  us,"  he  said.  "I  put 
work  in  his  way.  He  '11  be  home  late. ' ' 

Tall,  gaunt  and  angular,  somewhat  stooped, 
Nourse  stood  looking  down  at  her;  and  as,  per 
plexed  and  excited,  Ethel  scanned  his  visage,  so 
heavy  in  spite  of  its  narrow  lines,  she  saw  an  ex 
pression  in  which  contempt  was  tempered  by  a 
sort  of  regret  and  weariness.  And  of  course  he 
was  awkward,  too.  She  said  to  herself,  "Be  care 
ful  now. ' ' 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  asked  him. 

' '  Thank  you. ' '    And  he  took  a  seat. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  she  began,  but  Nourse 
interrupted  her. 

"Would  you  object,"  he  asked  her,  "if  I  do  the 
talking  for  a  while?  I've  got  it  fairly  clear  in 
mind,  just  what  I  want  to  say  to  you." 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,  if  you  prefer,"  she  said, 
a  little  breathlessly. 

176 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  177 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lanier,  I  think  I  know  about  what 
you  want — and  I'm  here  to  say  that  I'll  help  you 
to  get  it— if  in  return  you  will  leave  us  alone." 
He  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  went  on:  "In  the 
last  few  months,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  you've  been 
doing  your  best  to  bring  on  a  clash  between  me 
and  your  husband.  Every  week  in  the  office  is 
worse  than  the  last.  I  don't  blame  you  for  that, 
from  your  point  of  view.  You  felt  I  was  trying 
to  make  him  eat  and  sleep  in  his  office.  I  was — 
and  I  am.  But  my  point  to  you  is  that  it  won't 
be  for  long,  and  I  'm  doing  this  really  on  your  ac 
count — to  get  money  enough  to  satisfy  you." 
She  looked  up  in  a  startled  way,  but  he  went  on 
unheeding.  "You  and  I  must  understand  each 
other.  Tell  me  how  much  you  really  need — and 
we'll  get  it,  Joe  and  I.  And  then  I'll  give  him 
back  to  you  nights — and  in  the  daytime  you  leave 
him  to  me. ' ' 

He  glanced  at  her  with  a  weary  dislike  which 
gave  her  an  impulse  to  say  to  him,  "Isn't  this 
rather  insulting!"  But  she  did  not  speak.  For 
looking  at  him  sharply,  she  caught  in  the  man's 
heavy  eyes  a  certain  grim,  deep  wistfulness  which 
drew  her  a  little  in  spite  of  his  speech.  And  she 
felt  very  curious,  too. 

"What  do  you  think  I  really  want?"  she  asked 
him,  then.  Her  voice  was  low. 


178  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

4  '  Money, "  he  said. 

" Where  did  you  get  that  idea?" 

<  <  From  your  sister, ' '  he  replied.  ' i  She  sent  for 
me,  too — long  ago. ' ' 

"What  fort" 

' '  Money.  She  told  me  that  we  were  not  making 
enough— that  I  was  holding  her  husband  back— 
from  'his  career'  she  called  it.  She  said  that  if  I 
kept  him  out  of  a  certain  job  that  meant  money 
quick,  she  would  break  up  our  partnership.  She 
said  she  could  do  it,  and  she  was  right.  My  hold 
on  Joe  wasn't  in  it  with  hers." 

"What  was  your  hold  on  him?  What  do  you 
mean!"  asked  Ethel.  Again  her  voice  was  low. 
Nourse  looked  down  at  his  big  hands  and  an 
swered  very  quietly, 

"I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  understand."  She 
bit  her  lip. 

"But  until  I  do  learn  what  you  want  of  Joe," 
she  retorted  sharply,  "I'm  afraid  that  I  can't  tell 
you  how  much  money  I  shall  need. ' '  He  glanced 
up  at  her,  puzzled.  "Suppose  you  try  me,"  she 
went  on.  And  as  the  man  still  frowned  at  her, 
"I  learned  the  other  day,"  she  said,  "that  you 
knew  Joe  long  before  he  was  married.  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  about  that." 

Little  by  little  she  drew  him  out.  And  as  in 
a  reluctant  way,  in  sentences  abrupt  and  bald,  he 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  179 

answered  all  her  questions,  again  and  again  did 
Ethel  feel  a  little  wave  of  excitement.  For 
Nonrse  was  speaking  of  Joe's  youth— of  college 
and  later  of  Paris,  and  then  of  a  group  of  young 
men  in  New  York,  would-be  architects,  painters 
and  writers  who  had  lived  near  Washington 
Square;  of  long  talks,  discussions,  plans,  and  of 
all  night  work  in  the  architect's  office  where  he 
and  Joe  had  worked  side  by  side.  Joe  had  been 
a  " designer"  there;  he  had  been  the  brilliant  one 
of  the  two,  and  the  more  impassioned  and  intense 
and  bold  in  his  conceptions.  There  was  a  feeling 
almost  of  reverence  in  the  low,  rough  voice  of 
Joe's  friend.  He  told  how  Joe  had  risen,  until  in 
a  few  years  he  became  the  chief  designer  for  his 
firm;  and  of  how  from  other  firms  offers  had 
come.  To  keep  him  his  employers  had  been 
forced  to  raise  his  salary,  and  to  do  much  more 
than  that,  for  money  didn't  appeal  to  him  then. 
They  had  given  him  more  important  work — "job 
after  job,  and  Joe  made  good."  The  climax  of 
this  rising  had  come  one  night  in  the  rooms  they 
shared,  when  Joe  told  his  friend  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  set  up  an  office  of  his  own,  though  he 
was  only  twenty-nine. 

"And  he  offered  me  a  partnership."  The  big 
man 's  voice  was  husky  now,  as,  in  a  little  outburst 
with  a  good  deal  of  bitterness  in  it,  he  spoke  of 


180  HIS    SECOND   WIPE 

the  glory  of  the  work  of  which  he  and  Joe  had 
once  been  a  part.  He  seemed  appealing  to  Joe's 
wife  to  see,  for  God's  sake,  what  it  was  in  Joe 
that  had  been  lost.  Then  he  stopped  and  frowned 
and  stared  at  her.  ' '  Oh,  what 's  the  use  ? "  he  mut 
tered.  But  Ethel's  voice  was  sharp  and  clear: 

"Oh,  if  you  only  knew,"  she  .cried,  "how  much 
good  this  is  doing!  I  won't  stop  to  explain  but — 
please — go  on!"  Her  brown  eyes  threw  him  a 
fierce  appeal.  And  again  she  had  him  talking. 
He  told  of  a  plan  for  apartment  buildings  Joe  had 
conceived  in  those  early  days.  "I  don't  say  it 
was  practicable,  I  give  it  just  to  show  you  what 
the  man  had  in  him,"  he  said.  "Big  ideas  that 
strike  in  deep,  the  kind  that  change  whole  cities." 
Instead  of  a  street  like  a  canyon  with  sheer  walls 
on  either  side,  the  front  of  each  building  was  to 
recede  in  narrow  terraces,  floor  by  floor,  so  letting 
floods  of  sunlight  down  into  the  street  below  and 
giving  to  each  apartment  a  small  terrace  garden. 
As  she  listened,  Ethel  grew  intent.  It  was  not  the 
mere  plan  that  excited  her,  she  was  giving  small 
heed  to  the  details.  But  this  had  in  it  what  she 
had  craved  ever  since  she  had  come  to  the  city — 
beauty  and  creative  work — and  this  had  been  in 
Joe's  "business"! 

"There  was  only  one  point  against  it,"  she 
heard  Nourse  saying  presently.  "Those  terraces 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  181 

took  a  lot  of  space.  Each  one  meant  so  much  rent 
was  lost.  For  years,  till  the  plan  took  hold  of  the 
town,  it  was  a  money  loser.  .  .  .  And  Joe  met 
your  sister  then."  The  voice  had  changed,  and 
its  hostile  tone  brought  Ethel  back  with  a  sharp 
turn.  The  man,  as  though  uneasy  at  the  revela 
tions  he  had  made,  was  looking  at  her  as  at  first, 
with  suspicion  and  dislike.  "I  won't  go  into  de 
tails  of  how  she  got  her  hold  on  Joe.  You  know 
how  that's  done,  I  suppose.  I'm  speaking  of  the 
effect  on  his  work.  He  soon  put  off  that  plan  of 
his — and  any  others  of  the  kind.  For  now  he  had 
to  have  money.  And  he  has  been  putting  it  off 
ever  since — not  dropping  it,  he'll  tell  you,  only 
putting  it  off  till  he's  rich.  But  if  he  isn't  rich 
enovgh  soon,  it'll  be  too  late.  For  that  part  of 
him  is  nearly  dead. 

"But  to  go  back  to  your  sister.  It  was  not 
only  his  money,  it  was  his  time  she  needed.  First 
it  was  a  wedding  trip,  and  after  that  late  hours — 
a  short  day  in  his  office.  And  he  wasn't  half  the 
man  he  had  been.  He  was  thinking  of  the  night 
before,  and  then  of  the  night  that  was  coming. 
She  came  for  him  at  five  o'clock."  He  saw  Ethel 
start,  and  he  added,  "Just  as  you  did  later  on. 

"And  when  he  did  wake  up  to  work,  it  was  dif 
ferent — it  was  for  money  alone.  He  began  to 
throw  over  his  ideals,  and  very  soon  there  was 


182  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

only  me  to  hold  him  back.  You  see,  he  had  had  so 
many  friends  before  he  met  your  sister,  men  and 
even  women,  too,  who  had  been  a  spur  to  him. 
But  when  he  brought  his  wife  around,  they 
wouldn't  have  her,  turned,  her  down — and  that 
made  her  bitter  against  them  all  and  she  kept  Joe 
from  them.  All  but  me.  I  stayed  in  the  office, 
and  now  and  then  I  got  some  of  his  friends  and 
we  would  take  him  out  to  lunch.  But  then  even 
that  stopped.  Joe  hadn't  time.  He  was  too  busy 
getting  the  cash. 

"He  had  dropped  all  pretence  of  any  work  that 
was  really  worth  while,  and  had  turned  his  art 
into  a  business.  He  became  a  real  estate  gambler 
and  an  architect,  all  in  one.  He  got  to  speculat 
ing  in  land — and  what  he  built  on  it  he  didn  't  care, 
so  long  as  it  produced  the  cash.  Oh,  it  wasn't 
all  at  once,  you  know,  you  can't  strangle  the  soul 
of  a  man  in  a  hurry — but  by  the  time  your  sister 
died,  the  buildings  Joe  was  putting  up  were  just 
about  as  common  and  cheap  as  the  average  play 
on  Broadway — crowd  pleasers.  He  had  lost  his 
nerve.  Everything  had  to  be  popular.  Play  safe 
each  time,  on  the  same  old  flats  that  every  woman 
seems  to  love.  A  woman  is  conservative.  To 
have  and  to  hold,  to  get  and  keep,  to  stand  pat 
with  both  eyes  shut — that's  the  average  woman  in 
this  town.  And  Joe  had  to  play  her. 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  183 

"And  because  he  still  had  a  soul  in  him — and  a 
stomach  that  turned — he  began  to  vary  the  dul- 
ness  of  it  by  becoming  sensational.  He  did  dar 
ing  things,  cheap  daring  things — no  real  original 
ity  in  it,  but  it  took  on  and  caught  the  eye.  Pic 
tures  of  his  buildings  got  into  the  real  estate  pages 
of  the  Sunday  papers.  He  hired  a  press  agent 
then  and  went  after  the  publicity.  And  all  I  need 
to  tell  you  of  that,  is  that  just  the  other  day  the 
press  agent  came  into  the  office  with  a  scheme 
for  a  string  of  buildings  up  on  the  new  part  of 
the  Drive.  They  were  to  be  patriotic — see? — 
named  after  the  presidents  of  our  country — cheap 
and  showy  terra-cotta — main  effect  red,  white  and 
blue."  Ethel  leaned  back  with  a  little  gasp.  But 
Nourse  added  relentlessly,  "And  Joe  didn't  turn 
him  down. ' ' 

She  stiffened  sharply  in  her  chair  and  looked 
at  Nourse  with  indignant  eyes,  as  though  he  alone 
were  to  blame. 

"You  mean  to  say  my  husband  could  even  con 
sider  such  a  plan!" 

"Why  not?  There's  money  in  it — big — the 
publicity  value  would  be  immense.  It  would  make 
his  name  a  joke  of  course,  with  every  architect  in 
town — but  think  of  all  the  talk,  free  ads!  And 
that  means  tenants  pouring  in — and  money! 
Don't  you  like  it?  She  would  have — your  sister 


184  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

would,  I  mean.  It  was  just  such  a  scheme  on  a 
smaller  scale  that  made  her  send  for  me  one  day 
and  tell  me  I  could  keep  hands  off  or  else  get  out 
of  the  office.  I  gave  in  because  I  couldn't  go — I 
couldn't  quite  make  up  my  mind  to  the  fact  that 
Joe  was  done  for.  So  I  stuck — and  she  tried  to 
break  me — again  and  again.  But  Joe,  for  all  the 
change  in  him,  had  a  loyal  streak  not  only  for  me 
but  for  all  he  had  once  meant  to  do.  Even  still 
he  kept  saying  he  'd  just  put  it  off,  and  that  when 
he'd  got  the  money  he'd  turn  back  and  we'd  be 
gin. 

"And  when  his  wife  died,  I  began  to  have  hope. 
The  only  blot  on  her  funeral  was  the  fact  that  you 
were  there — and  you  told  me  you  intended  to  stay. 
Her  sister — the  same  story.  I  soon  shook  that 
off,  however — for  I  saw  the  way  he  turned  to  his 
work  as  a  refuge  from  his  grief  for  her.  I  had 
my  chance  and  I  took  it.  When  his  mind  was  dull 
and  numb  I  began  to  slip  in  changes.  And  each 
change  meant  better  work  and  less  easy  money. 
And  soon  I  was  making  headway  fast ;  for  Joe  had 
never  cared  for  money  for  himself,  but  only  for 
her — and  she  was  dead.  So  he  let  our  profits  go 
down  and  down,  while  what  we  did  got  more  worth 
doing.  It  even  began  to  take  hold  of  him — of  the 
old  Joe  that  was  still  there. 

"But  after  nearly  a  year  of  that,  I  had  to  laugh 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  185 

at  myself  for  a  fool.  For  Joe  began  wanting 
money  again,  and  I  knew  he  was  thinking  of 
marrying  you.  I  fought,  of  course,  and  for  a  time 
I  had  some  hope  of  beating  you.  I  remembered 
you  as  you  had  been  at  the  time  of  your  sister's 
funeral.  You  had  seemed  so  young  and  wreak  to 
me.  But  later,  when  you  were  his  wife  and  began 
taking  half  his  time,  keeping  late  hours,  draining 
him — for  you  women  can  drain  a  man,  you  know — 
then  I  knew  that  you  were  strong,  your  sister's 
sister.  I  gave  in.  Or  I  should  say  I  took  the 
only  chance  that  was  left.  I  threw  over  the  things 
we  had  dreamed  of  and  got  him  to  work  for  money 
hard — harder  than  he'd  ever  done.  I  drove  him! 
Why!  Because  I  got  him  back  that  way.  By 
making  him  work  for  money  for  you  I  began  to 
get  him  away  from  you.  In  time  I  even  got  him  to 
stay  in  the  office  late  at  night.  I  got  him  to  keep 
away  from  you  nights.  And  there  was  more  than 
that  in  my  scheme.  For  now  we  're  making  money 
enough  to  satisfy  even  you,  I  think.  I'm  not  sure 
— I  'm  never  sure — your  sister  taught  me  never  to 
be.  Perhaps  you  can't  be  satisfied.  But  if  you 
can,  I  see  a  chance.  Tell  me  how  much  you  really 
need.  We'll  get  it.  And  then  for  the  love  of 
God  leave  us  alone  before  it's  too  late — before 
what's  in  the  man  is  dead!" 

Nourse  finished  and  rose,  looking  down  at  her. 


186  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

She  sat  rigid,  keeping  herself  in  hand.  Again  and 
again  she  had  been  on  the  point  of  bursting  out, 
for  the  sheer  brutality  of  so  much  he  had  told  her 
had  made  it  very  hard  to  sit  still.  But  then  as  he 
had  spoken  of  Amy,  Ethel  had  kept  silent,  watch 
ing  his  face  intensely.  How  much  Amy  must  have 
done  to  have  aroused  such  bitterness!  A  sense 
of  reality  in  his  talk,  a  clear  and  sudden  conscious 
ness  of  having  the  real  Amy  held  up  here  before 
her  eyes,  had  gripped  Ethel  like  a  vise.  Till  now 
she  had  no  clear  idea  of  how  much  Joe  had  sacri 
ficed.  But  all  that  finer  side  of  him,  that  early 
life,  those  dreams,  those  friends,  had  all  been 
known  to  Amy.  And  Amy  had  been  willing  to  lose 
them  all,  to  crush  them  out,  for  money,  only  money, 
and  money  for  such  an  empty  life!  Ethel  shiv 
ered  a  little.  Her  sister's  picture  was  complete. 
"No,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  Nourse,  "I'm  not 
going  to  leave  you  alone.  What  I've  got  to  do 
now  is  to  try  my  best  to  make  you  feel  what  I 
really  want,  and  what  a  mistake  you  've  been  mak 
ing.  Please  listen,  while  I  try  to  be  clear."  Her 
expression  was  strained  as  she  looked  at  him. 
She  smiled  a  little.  "I  am  not  like  my  sister. 
I'd  rather  not  say  much  about  her  now.  She — 
had  her  good  points,  too — she's  dead.  And  all 
you  need  to  know  is  this.  You  were  wrong  about 
me  in  those  first  months — I  was  trying  to  get  away 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  187 

from  Joe.  I  had  my  own  dreams  and  I  wished  to 
be  free.  I  even  tried  to  earn  my  living.  I  worked 
for  a  while.  But  the  man  I  worked  for — fright 
ened  me — and  that  threw  me  back  on  Joe.  He  was 
poor  then,  so  I  nursed  his  child  and  ran  his  home 
on  very  little.  And  I  liked  that.  Believe  me — 
please !  I  liked  that !  And  I  think  the  main  rea 
son  for  it  was  that  I  was  falling  in  love,  not  with 
her  husband  but  with  the  man  whom  you  were 
bringing  back  to  life.  It  was  that  in  him,  that 
kind  of  ambition  and  that  kind  of  life  and  friends, 
that  I  wanted — oh,  so  hard !  I  was  groping  about 
to  get  them — but  it 's  not  easy  in  New  York.  And 
meanwhile  we  were  married,  and  about  that  part 
of  it  you  were  right.  I  was  selfish,  I  did  want  him 
all.  I  let  everything  go,  kept  everything  out — 
especially  his  business.  I  was  jealous  of  you  as 
I  was  of  his  wife — of  everything  past — I  wanted 
him  new ! 

"Then  my  baby  came,  and  it  was  a  time  when  I 
did  a  good  deal  of  thinking.  I — thought  out  my 
sister.  I  saw  how  different  we  were.  What  she 
wanted  I  didn't  want  at  all.  So  I  set  to  work  to 
change  him — and  I  thought  I  was  doing  it  all  by 
myself — just  as  you  thought  you  were  doing  it. 
Each  of  us  was  working  alone — and  we  thought 
we  were  working  in  spite  of  each  other — against 
each  other.  I  was  against  you  in  his  office,  you 


188  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

were  against  me  in  his  home.  And  because  you 
hadn't  any  idea  of  what  I  was  trying,  you  made 
him  work  for  money  for  me — to  buy  me  off !  But 
I  don't  want  money — alone,  I  mean!  And  when 
he  came  and  said  he  was  rich,  it  frightened  me — 
I  wasn't  ready — I  had  no  friends!  And  so  the 
money  only  brought  back  my  sister's  friends  in  a 
perfect  horde — and  with  them  her  memory — her 
influence — her  husband! 

"Oh,  can't  you  understand  what  I  mean — and 
how  I  'm  placed  and  what  it 's  like  ?  Can 't  you  be 
lieve  that  I  want  in  him  exactly  what  you  want 
yourself?  But  it  hasn't  been  easy!  Don't  you 
see?  I  am  only  a  second  wife!  She's  here — she 
has  been — all  the  time — like  a  ghost — and  we 
never  speak  her  name !  But  if  you  will  only  work 
with  me — " 

She  stopped  with  a  quick  turn  of  her  head. 
They  listened,  and  heard  Joe's  key  in  the  door. 
In  a  moment  he  had  entered  the  hall. 

*  '  Hello.    Who 's  here  ? "  he  asked  at  once. 

6  *  It's  I,"  said  his  partner,  quietly,  going  out  to 
meet  him.  And  sitting  there  rigid,  she  heard  him 
continue  in  gruff  low  tones,  " Something  I'd  for 
gotten — a  point  in  those  Taggert  specifications. 
I  want  to  clear  it  up  tonight. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVH 

WHAT  impression  had  she  made?  How  far 
had  she  overcome  the  heavy  weight  of  dis 
like  and  suspicion  Amy  had  rolled  up  in  his  mind  ? 
As  Ethel's  thoughts  went  rapidly  back  over  the 
things  Nourse  had  told  her,  again  and  again  with 
excitement  she  felt  what  a  help  he  could  be  if 
he  would.  Here  lay  the  gate  to  her  husband's 
youth. 

"If  only  he'll  believe  in  me!  Shall  I  send  for 
him?  No,"  she  decided.  "If  there's  any  hope, 
he  '11  come  again. ' ' 

She  waited  three  days.  Then  he  telephoned, 
"Can  I  see  you  today  at  four  o'clock?"  She  an 
swered,  "Yes,  I'll  be  very  glad."  And  she  felt 
a  little  faint  with  relief  as  she  hung  up  the  re 
ceiver. 

When  he  came  in,  that  afternoon,  one  glance  at 
him  made  her  exclaim  to  herself,  "He  half  be 
lieves  !  He 's  puzzled ! ' ' 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lanier,"  he  began  at  once,  with 
more  friendliness  now  in  his  heavy  voice,  "if  I've 
made  any  mistake  about  you,  I'm  sorry.  But  you 
must  show  me  first.  If  you're  real  about  this,  you 
look  to  me  like  a  woman  who  would  have  thought 

189 


190  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

it  all  out  in  the  last  few  days  and  formed  a  plan. 
What  is  it?" 

His  abruptness  rather  took  her  breath  for  a 
moment.  Then  she  said,  "Yes,  I  have  a  plan,  but 
so  have  you.  What  is  it!"  At  her  quick  retort 
she  saw  a  smile  of  grim  relish  come  over  his  large- 
features. 

"My  plan  is  simple,"  he  replied.  "Leave  Joe 
to  me.  Keep  him  quiet  at  night  so  he  can  work, 
and  I'll  show  you  another  husband."  She  shook 
her  head. 

i  *  He  'd  only  make  more  money. ' ' 

"Tell  him  you  don't  want  it,  then!"  She 
smiled  at  him. 

"Too  simple,"  she  said.     He  looked  at  her. 

"I  thought  it  would  be  too  simple  for  a  woman," 
was  his  answer. 

"It's  worse  than  that,"  she  replied.  "It's 
blind.  You  've  never  been  married — apparently — 
not  even  to  one  woman — while  Joe,  you  see,  has 
been  married  twice.  To  you  a  man's  life  is  all 
in  his  office — but  half  of  Joe's  is  in  his  home — 
and  you'll  have  to  change  that  half  of  him,  too. 
I  told  you  her  friends  are  about — and  they  have 
her  memory  on  their  side — and  so  I  can't  get  rid 
of  them  until  I  get  some  friends  of  my  own." 

"Then  get  them." 

"How?    Go   out  on  any   street  and  call  up, 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  191 

*  Heigh  there '  at  the  windows?"  She  leaned  for 
ward  quickly  and  sternly:  "The  friends  I  want 
are  the  people  he  knew — the  ones  you  told  me  of. 
That's  my  plan.  Put  me  in  touch  with  some  of 
them,  and  let  me  bring  them  in  touch  with  Joe. 
And  I'll  show  you  a  different  partner."  He 
looked  at  her. 

"Well,  that's  too  simple,  too,"  he  said. 

"Why  is  it?"  she  demanded. 

"Because  in  those  first  years  of  his  marriage  I 
went  to  them  so  often,  in  just  the  way  you're  think 
ing  of.  I  got  some  of  the  men  he  used  to  know  to 
come  to  his  office  and  take  him  to  lunch.  And  it 
did  so  little  good  they  quit.  They  all  got  sick  of 
it — and  they're  through." 

Ethel  leaned  forward  intensely: 

' '  But  it  will  be  different  now !  Before,  they  had 
Amy  here  working  against  them !  I  'm  here  now, 
and  I'll  be  on  their  side!"  He  frowned,  and  she 
cried  impatiently,  "You  don't  believe  me,  do  you! 
You  don 't  believe  I  can  do  anything — or  even  that 
I  want  to!" 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  almost  do." 

"Then  please  give  me  a  chance,"  she  said,  very 
low.  And  by  her  eager  questions  she  began  to 
draw  out  of  Nourse  the  information  she  wanted. 
It  did  not  come  easy,  for  the  past  seemed  buried 


192  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

deep  in  his  memory.  As  one  by  one  he  spoke  of 
Joe's  friends  he  would  add,  "But  he's  dead,"  or, 
"He's  gone  West."  He  had  kept  track  of  them, 
after  a  fashion,  but  he  had  seen  them  little  of  late. 
What  a  lonely  life  he  had  led,  she  thought.  She 
wondered  if  he  had  grown  too  old  and  hopeless  to 
be  of  any  help.  She  fought  down  her  discourage 
ment. 

"There  was  Crothers,"  he  was  saying.  "He's 
an  architect,  and  he 's  doing  good  work.  He  never 
had  Joe's  boldness,  but  he  always  had  a  fine  sense 
of  things,  and  at  least  he  has  stuck  to  his  ideals. 
He  could  do  more  to  bring  Joe  back  than  any  other 
man  I  know." 

'  '  Then  we  must  get  him ! ' ' 

"That  will  be  hard." 

"Why  will  it?" 

"Because  some  years  ago  I  tried  to  get  Crothers 
into  our  firm.  The  two  of  us  together  might  have 
kept  Joe  from  the  mere  money  jobs  and  made  it  a 
firm  to  be  proud  of.  Crothers  was  ready  to  come 
in,  and  I  had  nearly  succeeded  in  bringing  Joe  to 
agree  to  it." 

"Then  what  was  the  matter?" 

'  '  Your  sister.  Joe  had  told  her  he  was  thinking 
of  some  move  in  his  business  which  would  keep 
him  poor  awhile.  And  she  flew  into  quite  a  rage. 
That  was  another  time  she  sent  for  me."  Nourse 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  193 

leaned  grimly  back  in  his  chair.  "She  told  me 
that  if  I  ruined  her  husband's  *  career,'  as  she 
called  it,  she'd  break  us  apart  once  and  for  all. 
She  wouldn't  have  Crothers  in  the  firm — not  only 
because  it  meant  money  lost,  but  because  Crothers' 
wife  had  turned  her  down."  Ethel  looked  at  him 
sharply. 

'  '  Oh — he  has  a  wife, ' '  she  said. 

"Yes,  and  she  wasn't  your  sister's  kind.  She 
was  a  college  woman  who  wanted  to  be  a  great 
painter — and  when  the  painting  petered  out,  she 
shut  her  jaw  and  said,  'Never  mind.  If  I  can't 
paint  landscapes  I  can  make  them.'  And  she  took 
up  landscape  gardening.  She  married  Burt 
Crothers  soon  after  that,  but  she  stuck  to  her 
work  and  in  course  of  time  it  fitted  in  with  her 
husband's.  He  and  Sally  have  struggled  along 
up-hill,  and  though  they've  never  made  much 
money  they've  had  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  life." 

"She  sounds  so  nice,"  Ethel  hungrily  mur 
mured. 

"Oh,  yes,  she's  nice  enough,"  he  said,  "until 
you  go  against  her.  Then  Sally  gets  mad,  and 
stays  that  way.  And  she  got  that  way, ' '  he  added, 
"when  we  turned  her  husband  down.  She  hadn't 
liked  your  sister.  In  fact,  when  Joe  married  and 
brought  his  wife  and  the  Crothers  together,  it 
wasn't  a  go.  She  called  your  sister  ' hopeless.' 


194  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

And  when  Joe 's  wife  came  back  at  her  by  keeping 
Crothers  out  of  our  firm,  then  war  was  declared. ' ' 

Nourse  broke  off  and  looked  at  Ethel. 

"So  you  see  what  you're  up  against,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Ethel.  At  every  door  to  her 
husband's  youth,  Amy  seemed  to  be  barring  the 
way.  She  gave  an  impatient  little  shrug.  "If 
I  could  only  show  them ! ' ' 

"What?" 

"That  I'm  different!  And  the  hole  I'm  in! 
And  what  it  is  I  want  in  Joe!  .  .  .  Can't  you  go 
and  talk  to  them!"  There  was  impatience  again 
in  her  eyes.  He  saw  it  and  smiled  wearily. 

"You  think  I'm  mighty  weak,"  he  said,  "with 
not  much  fight  left  in  me.  You're  right,  I  guess. 
But  you  don't  know  what  I've  been  through  in  the 
last  seven  years.  I  stuck  to  Joe — and  they  didn't 
like  that.  Sally  said  I  had  knuckled  down  to  Joe 's 
wife.  So  she  hasn't  asked  me  there  in  years. 
And  if  I  were  to  go  to  her  now,  I'm  afraid  my 
opinion  of  you  wouldn't  count." 

There  was  another  silence.  Again  that  dull 
weight  of  discouragement  fell,  and  again  she  shook 
it  from  her. 

"Nevertheless,"  she  said  quietly,  looking  him 
full  in  the  face,  "I  mean  to  have  Crothers  in  our 
firm."  She  saw  the  mingled  liking  and  compas- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  195 

sion  which  came  in  his  eyes,  and  she  bit  her  lip  to 
keep  down  the  wave  of  self-pity  which  arose  in  her. 

"Perhaps  you  will,"  she  heard  him  say.  His 
voice  sounded  a  long  way  off.  She  brought  her 
self  back  to  him  with  a  jerk. 

' '  Of  course  I  will !  We  will,  I  mean !  You  and 
I  are  to  work  together,  you  know.  Now  will  you 
please  tell  me,"  she  continued  grimly,  "one  per 
son  who  knew  my  husband  and  who  will  be  so  very 
kind  as  not  to  call  for  the  police  the  minute  I 
come  into  view?"  A  moment  later  she  started 
forward.  "Oh,  please!"  she  cried.  "Do  that 
again!  You  chuckled!  Don't  deny  it!  Go  on 
and  really  laugh  with  me !"  Her  voice,  unsteady 
and  quivering,  broke  into  a  merry  laugh,  and  in 
this  Joe's  partner  joined.  Then  she  said  sternly. 
"You  give  me  a  friend!" 

Nourse  thought  for  a  moment.  "There's  only 
one  left  on  the  list,"  he  replied. 

"His  name,  please — " 

"Dwight." 

"Business!" 

"Music.  He  shows  rich  girls  how  to  sing." 
She  stared  at  him. 

"But  look  here,"  she  said  emphatically.  "I'm 
a  rich  girl — I  'm  very  well  off — and  I  certainly  pro 
pose  to  sing!  I  used  to,  in  the  choir  at  home — 


196  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

and  I  was  told  I  had  quite  a  voice !    And  I  meant 

to  take  lessons  in  New  York— of  a  tall  dark  man 

with  curly  hair — " 

"Dwight,"  said  Nourse,  "is  fair  and  fat." 
"Never  mind.     Then  he  probably  has  blue  eyes. 

And    they    twinkle    at    you— in    the    friendliest 

way — " 

"Young  woman,  I'm  your  husband's  friend." 
"Never  mind  if  you  are.    You're  not  enough. 

I  want  more  of  his  friends.     Now  tell  me— where 

did  the  fat  man  study  ?    Abroad  ? ' ' 
"In  Paris." 

"Oh!"  she  cried.  "Were  he  and  Joe  together 
there?" 

"They  were,  for  a  while — " 

* '  Oh,  how  nice ! ' '  She  laughed  at  him.  <  <  What 
a  dear  you've  been  to  me,"  she  said.  "You  like 
me,  don 't  you ! ' ' 

"Yes— I  do." 

"Quite  a  good  deal!" 

^  "All  right,"  he  said.     She  was  watching  his 
face.     ' '  This  is  new  to  him, ' '  she  was  thinking. 

"You  believe  I  don't  want  money?" 

"Yes—" 

"Nor  friends  like  Amy's?" 

"You  don't  seem  to." 

"And  I  don't.     I  want  friends  like  you  and  this 
Mr.  Dwight— and  that  odious  Sally  Crothers  who 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE 


197 


won't  even  let  me  in  at  her  door.    And  her  hus 
band—yes,  he  '11  do.    Why  how  the  circle  widens ! ' ' 
"So  far,"  Nourse  reminded  her,  "I'm  the  only 
circle  you've  got." 

"Yes,  and  a  very  nice  one.  And  now  you're 
going  to  be  a  dear,  and  go  to  this  man  Dwight  and 
say  what  a  remarkable  voice  I  have — and  tell  him 
all  my  other  points,  and  the  hole  I'm  in  and  the 
money  I  have.  Don't  forget  that— the  money  I 
have— for  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Dwight 
leads  me  to  believe  that  wealth  is  a  great  induce 
ment  with  him.  It  makes  his  blue  eyes  twinkle 
so." 

"Very  well,"  Nourse  answered  grimly.  "But 
when  you  get  them  twinkling,  what  are  you  going 
to  do  with  him?" 

"Sing  with  him,"  was  her  firm  reply.  And  be 
tween  songs  talk  with  him— of  Paris  and  my  hus 
band,  and  the  great  ideals  I  have— and  the  de 
licious  dinners  I  have— for  he's  fat,  you  know, 
and  he  loves  his  meals— and  then  ask  him  to  come 
to  dinner,  of  course."  She  scowled.  "That," 
she  said  severely,  "is  all  I  can  tell  you  at  present. 
My  plans  for  resurrecting  Joe  will  have  to  be 
made  as  I  go  along— step  by  step  and  friend  by 
friend."  All  at  once  she  turned  on  him  fiercely. 
*  <  There 's  that  pity  again  in  your  eyes !  '  Oh,  how 
young,'  you  are  thinking.  Then  let  me  tell  you, 


198  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Mr.  Bill  Nourse,  that  you  are  not  to  pity  me !  If 
you  do, ' '  she  cried,  ' '  the  time  will  come  when  you 
will  be  pitying  yourself — for  being  cast  off  like  an 
old  leather  shoe — from  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  attractive  circles  in  this  town!  Do  you  know 
what  you  almost  do  to  me — you,  the  one  friend  I 
have  in  New  York  ?  You  make  me  feel  you  Ve  al 
most  lost  your  faith  and  hope  in  everything — that 
you're  nearly  old!  You  make  me  wonder  if  I'm 
too  late — whether  my  husband  is  nearly  old,  and 
the  dreams  he  had  in  him  cold  and  gone!  You 
scare  me — and  you've  got  to  stop !  You've  got  to 
be  just  exactly  as  young  as  I  am — this  very 
minute!  You've  got  to  borrow  some  youth  from 
me — for  I  have  plenty  to  go  around — and  help  me 
make  this  fight  for  friends !  It  may  not  come  to 
anything — for  the  soul  of  this  city  is  hard  as 
nails !  This  music  man  may  turn  me  down — or  be 
perfectly  fat  and  useless!  Who  knows?  But 
how  can  I  tell  till  I  meet  the  man?  And  when 
will  you  go  and  see  him?  Today  or  tomorrow? 
I  haven 't  very  much  time,  you  know,  for  any  more 
shilly-shallying!  I  want  some  action  out  of 
you—" 

She  faced  him  flushed  and  menacing,  and  he  took 
her  hand  and  said, 

"You'll  get  it.    Where's  your  telephone?" 

" Eight  there  in  the  hall!" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  199 


* 'I'll  call  up  Dwight." 
"Wait!    Is  he  married?" 

"No." 
"Thank  God!" 


CHAPTEE  XVHI 

THE  next  morning  at  eleven  o'clock  she  met 
Dwight  in  his  studio,  and  in  a  brisk  pleasant 
businesslike  way  she  began  to  tell  him  of  her 
voice — what  singing  she  had  done  at  home  and 
how  she  had  always  meant  to  take  lessons  when 
she  should  come  to  New  York  to  live. 

6  '  To  find  out  how  much  of  a  voice  I  really  have, 
you  know/'  she  said.  Her  manner  was  more 
affable  now.  '  '  But  my  husband  and  my  baby  have 
kept  me  rather  busy,  you  see,  and  so  I've  put  it 
off  and  off — until  just  lately  I  began  to  look  about 
and  make  inquiries.  And  then  by  good  luck  I 
learned  of  you — from  my  husband's  partner. " 

"You're  Joe  Lanier's  wife,  aren't  you?"  he 
asked. 

"His  second,"  she  said  with  emphasis.  And  a 
moment  later  she  told  herself,  "Yes,  his  eyes  do 
twinkle,  and  he  seems  to  be  quite  nice.  He  isn't 
so  excessively  fat,  and  he  has  a  big  wide  generous 
mouth,  and  I  like  his  eyes.  But  he  thinks  my  com 
ing  like  this  a  bit  queer,  and  he's  wondering 
what's  behind  it."  She  downed  her  excitement 
and  went  on  in  the  same  resolute  tone  she  had 

used  with  such  success  on  Nourse.    No  personal 

200 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  201 

conversation  just  yet,  she  would  show  him  she 
meant  business.  And  so  she  stuck  to  the  lessons. 

"If  you'll  take  me  as  a  pupil,"  she  said,  "I'd 
like  to  begin  immediately." 

"Let  me  try  your  voice,"  he  proposed.  He 
went  to  the  piano,  and  there  his  manner  had  soon 
changed.  From  genial  and  curious  it  grew  inter 
ested.  He  spoke  rather  sharply,  asking  her  to 
do  this  and  that,  and  she  felt  as  though  she  were 
being  probed.  "You  have  a  voice,"  he  said,  at 
the  end.  "Not  a  world  shaker,"  he  added,  smil 
ing,  "but  one  that  interests  me  a  lot."  She 
beamed  on  him. 

"You'll  take  me,  then?" 

"Assuredly." 

' '  Oh,  that 's  so  nice. ' '  They  decided  on  the  time 
for  her  lessons.  Then  she  glanced  at  her  wrist 
watch.  "Will  you  see  if  my  car  is  waiting?" 
she  asked.  "I  had  him  take  the  nurse  and  baby 
up  to  the  Park — and  he  ought  to  be  back  by  now, 
I  think."  But  as  Dwight  went  to  the  telephone, 
she  added  excitedly  to  herself,  "Now  if  that  idiot 
of  a  chauffeur  is  as  late  as  I  told  him  to  be,  you 
and  I  will  have  quite  a  talk,  Mr.  Dwight. ' ' 

"It  isn't  here  yet,"  he  informed  her. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry.  I'll  have  to  walk."  She 
smiled  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  "Will  you 
send  the  chauffeur  home?" 


202  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"If  you  like,"  he  replied  good-humouredly. 
"But  I'd  much  rather  you'd  wait  here — if  you 
have  nothing  pressing."  And  as  she  hesitated, 
"It's  not  only  your  voice,  you  know — I  used  to  be 
quite  a  friend  of  Joe's." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  his  telling  me.  Over  in 
Paris,  wasn't  it!" 

Soon  they  were  talking  easily.  Dwight  had  lit 
a  cigarette,  and  Ethel  could  see  he  was  studying 
her.  She  tried  to  look  unconscious. 

"I've  wanted  to  go  to  Paris  all  my  life,"  she 
told  him.  "How  long  is  it  since  you  left?" 

"Only  a  year."     She  looked  at  him. 

"Is  there  a  Paris  in  New  York?" 

"I'm  not  sure  yet — I'm  new,  you  see." 

"So  am  I,"  she  confided  frankly.  And  at  that 
he  gave  her  a  swift  glance  which  made  Ethel  add 
to  herself,  "Yes,  he  could  be  very  personal." 

She  asked  him  what  he  had  found  in  New  York 
as  a  contrast,  coming  from  abroad.  She  spoke  of 
the  high  buildings  here,  and  from  that  she  passed 
quite  naturally  to  her  husband's  business. 

"It  isn't  the  work  I'd  like  for  him,"  she  said 
with  a  regretful  sigh.  "Joe  is  getting  to  be  like 
all  the  rest — he 's  making  too  much  money. ' '  She 
waited  a  moment  and  added,  "I  should  so  like  him 
to  be  as  he  was  when  you  knew  him." 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  203 

"I'll  be  curious  to  see  how  he  has  changed. 
You  must  let  me  see  him, ' '  Dwight  replied. 

"Why  yes,  of  course." 

"Over  in  Paris  he  had  so  much.  He  was  such  a 
wonderful  lad  for  dreams — with  the  most  exuber 
ant  fancy  in  the  way  he  used  to  talk  of  New  York 
and  what  he  wanted  to  do  back  here — to  use  the 
backyards  and  the  roofs  and  turn  them  into  gar 
dens.  This  town,  when  Joe  got  through  with  it — 
well,  from  an  aeroplane  it  was  to  look  more  or  less 
like  a  bed  of  roses — or  a  hill  'town  in  Italy.  But 
that  was  only  his  lighter  vein.  When  his  fancy 
was  really  working  hard,  he  took  department 
stores,  hotels  and  huge  railroad  terminals  and 
jammed  them  all  together  into  one  big  building. 
How  deep  in  the  earth  it  was  to  have  gone  I  really 
can't  remember,  nor  how  far  up  into  the  skies. 
But  there  was  a  garden  at  the  top — or  a  meadow 
or  prairie  or  something." 

"Yes,"  thought  Ethel,  "I'm  going  to  like  him." 

' '  Joe  could  talk  of  his  plans  all  night, ' '  Dwight 
went  on  good-naturedly.  "And  keep  a  poor  lazy 
musician  like  me  from  my  piano  where  I  be 
longed." 

"Was  it  you  who  taught  him  to  play?"  she 
asked. 

"On  the  piano!    It  was,"  he  replied.     "Isn't 


204  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

his  touch  amazing?  And  so  thoroughly  Christian, 
too." 

"Christian?" 

'  '  Yes.  He  doesn  't  let  his  right  hand  know  what 
his  left  hand  is  doing."  They  laughed.  And 
from  that  laugh  she  emerged  with  eagerness  in 
her  brown  eyes. 

"Oh,  please  go  on,"  she  begged  him.  "I  had 
no  idea  you  knew  him  so  well.  Did  he  do  nothing 
but  talk  over  there?" 

"He  did — he  worked  like  a  tiger.  Joe  could 
stand  more  hard  labour  in  one  consecutive  day  and 
night  than  any  fellow  I  ever  met.  And  he  could 
do  it  night  after  night.  I  remember  dropping  in 
on  him  for  coffee  and  rolls  one  morning.  A  chap 
named  Crothers  and  myself—"  Ethel  started  at 
the  name —  "had  just  come  home  from  the 
'Quatres  Arts  Ball.'  We  found  Joe  in  his  room 
with  the  curtains  drawn — he  didn't  know  it  was 
morning  yet.  He  had  a  towel  bound  round  his 
head  and  was  building  an  opera  house  for  Chicago 
—or  Kansas  City— I'm  not  sure  which.  And  he 
wasn't  just  dreaming  of  building  it  in  his  success 
ful  middle  age — he  was  building  it  now,  in  a  ter 
rible  rush,  as  though  Kansas  City  were  pushing 
him  hard.  Joe  didn't  live  in  the  future,  you  see 
— he  took  the  future  and  made  it  the  present,  and 
then  lived  in  the  present  like  mad." 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  205 

Dwight  tossed  away  his  cigarette. 

"But  you  say  it's  money  now." 

* '  Yes, ' '  she  replied.  "  It 's  money. ' "  He  smiled 
at  her  dejected  tone. 

"I  wouldn't  be  so  sad,"  he  remarked.  * 'Money 
isn't  as  bad  as  it  seems." 

1 '  Oh,  yes,  and  I  want  it, ' '  Ethel  declared.  '  '  But 
I  want  the  others  so  much  more !" 

When  her  car  had  come,  she  rose  and  said,  "You 
and  Joe  must  get  together  some  time.  Couldn't 
you  call  him  up  some  day  and  get  him  to  lunch 
with  you!" 

'  '  Gladly. ' '    They  went  to  the  door. 

"But  don't  be  disappointed,"  she  said,  "if  you 
find  him  changed  even  more  than  you  think. 
Money  has  such  a  pull  on  a  man. ' ' 

"I  know,  but  I  rather  like  it." 

"What!" 

"Oh,  don't  be  so  indignant,  please.  I  am  an 
artist — honestly.  But  some  of  these  men  I've  met 
over  here — well,  they  fascinate  me.  Such  bound 
less  energy  and  drive  ought  to  go  into  a  symphony. 
Plenty  of  drums  and  crashing  brass.  Good-bye, 
Mrs.  Lanier, ' '  he  added.  * '  This  has  been  a  lucky 
day  for  me." 

"Thank  you.  Don't  forget  about  Joe.  And 
meanwhile — till  next  Tuesday." 

As  she  settled  back  in  her  car  she  thought, 


206  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

"All  right,  Ethel,  very  good." 

Twice  a  week,  that  autumn,  she  went  to  Dwight 
for  lessons.  But  until  some  time  had  passed,  she 
did  not  mention  it  to  Joe< 

"When  you  meet  him,"  she  said  to  Dwight, 
"I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  speak  of  my  lessons.  I 
want  my  singing  to  be  a  surprise.  And  besides, 
I'd  so  much  rather  that  any  old  friends  of  my  hus 
band's  come  to  him  through  his  partner.  It  seems 
so  much  more  natural." 

"I  see,"  said  Dwight.  "But  he  doesn't,"  she 
thought,  "and  I'll  have  to  explain." 

"Later,  of  course,  I'll  tell  him,"  she  said, 
"But  just  now,  in  the  state  he's  in,  if  you  or  any 
one  else  of  his  friends  who  knew  him  as  he  used 
to  be  should  come  and  say,  'Sent  by  your  wife, 
with  her  compliments  and  fervent  hopes  of  your 
speedy  resurrection' — oh,  no,  it  wouldn't  do  at 
all."  Dwight  was  watching  her  curiously. 

"How  many  of  us  are  there?"  he  asked.  She 
looked  at  him  in  a  questioning  way. 

"Of  us,"  he  explained,  "Joe's  old  friends,  who 
are  to  dig  him  up,  you  know." 

"Only  you,  at  present — and  of  course  his  part 
ner."  He  smiled: 

"Bill  Nourse  is  not  a  very  brisk  digger." 

"Well,"  she  remarked,  in  a  casual  tone,  "if  you 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  207 

know  of  brisker  diggers  about  —  people  who  knew 


"Say  no  more.  I'll  search  the  town."  Their 
eyes  had  met  for  an  instant.  '  '  Yes,  '  '  she  thought, 
"I'm  getting  on." 

Dwight  lunched  with  Joe  soon  after  that,  and 
later  in  the  studio  he  and  Ethel  had  a  talk. 

"In  a  good  many  ways,"  he  assured  her,  "he 
struck  me  as  the  same  old  Joe  —  friendly  and  hos 
pitable  —  he  insisted  on  ordering  quite  a  meal. 
But  we  didn  't  eat  much  of  it.  We  talked.  '  ' 

"Of  Paris?" 

"Very  much  so.  There's  a  lot  of  Paris  in  him 
yet.  '  '  And  he  told  of  their  long  conversation. 

"Now,"  she  said,  when  she  rose  to  leave,  "if 
you'll  just  keep  at  him  occasionally  —  while  his 
partner  does  the  same  at  the  office,  and  I  do  what 
I  can  at  home  —  " 

"You  insist  on  his  being  home  every  night?" 

"That  depends,"  said  Ethel  gravely. 

"Suppose  I  take  him  'some  night  to  my  club. 
We  have  quite  a  number  of  architects  there.  '  ' 

'  '  Oh,  wonderful  !    How  good  of  you  !  '  ' 

"Mrs.  Lanier,"  said  her  teacher,  "I'm  under 
your  orders  —  digging  for  gold.  '  ' 

He  took  Joe  to  his  club  on  the  following  night, 
and  later  several  times  for  lunch. 

"Joe  likes  it,"  he  reported.     "And  he  has  al- 


208         '  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

ready  met  some  chaps  who  knew  of  him  and  his 
earlier  work,  not  only  in  Paris  but  over  here.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  designers  in  the  city, 
I  find — and  a  good  many  men  were  disappointed 
when  he  threw  over  his  true  profession  and  went 
after  ready  cash.  How  would  you  like  me  to  put 
up  his  name?" 

"For  club  membership ?" 

"  Precisely. " 

"I'd  like  it,  sir." 

"And  I  obey." 

"This  is  getting  rather  intimate,"  Ethel  told 
herself  that  night.  * l  Never  mind,  my  love,  you  Ve 
been  perfectly  honest.  He  knows  very  well  what 
you're  after.  And  if  he  likes  you  and  wants  to 
help,  so  much  the  better." 

Some  days  in  the  studio  she  stuck  severely  to 
her  voice  and  showed  him  she  meant  business. 
She  was  practising  quite  hard,  and  her  progress 
was  by  no  means  slow.  But  on  other  days  half  the 
hour  at  least  was  spent  in  learning  from  her  new 
friend  about  "a  Paris  in  New  York."  Dwight 
was  already  finding  one,  although  he  had  been 
here  less  than  a  year.  In  this  teeming  city  of  end 
less  change  he  had  found  a  deep  joy  of  creation,  of 
newness,  youth  and  boldness  that  made  even  Paris 
seem  far  behind.  "It's  all  so  amazingly  big,"  he 
said, '  '.with  such  revealing  chances  opening  up  on 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  209 

every  side!"  How  simple  it  was  for  him,  she 
thought,  with  a  little  pang  of  envy.  A  young 
musician  with  plenty  of  talent,  easy  manners, 
single,  free.  As  he  spoke  of  his  club  friends  and 
some  of  their  homes  that  were  open  to  him,  the 
glimpses  exasperated  her.  Here  were  the  people 
she  wanted  to  know,  a  little  world  of  artists,  archi 
tects  and  writers,  and  goodness  only  knew  what 
else.  She  was  still  rather  vague  about  them.  To 
her  surprise  she  discovered  that  many  were  after 
money,  too.  "Decidedly,"  her  teacher  said. 
"Excessively,"  he  added. 

"But  at  least,"  she  rejoined,  defending  them, 
"when  they  get  the  money  they  know  how  to  spend 
it  on  something  better  than  food  and  clothes! 
They  really  live — I'm  sure  they  do — and  have 
ideas  and  really  grow!"  She  caught  her  breath. 
What  an  idiot,  to  have  said  so  much!  "I'm  so 
glad,"  she  added  lamely,  "that  you  got  my  hus 
band  into  your  club.  It's  bound  to  do  so  much 
for  him."  She  threw  a  sharp  little  glance  at 
Dwight,  and  scowled,  for  she  thought  she  detected 
a  smile. 

"He's  doing  something  for  the  club,"  Dwight 
was  saying  cheerfully.  '  '  Some  of  those  chaps  are 
a  bit  too  refined  and  remote  for  this  raw  crude  city 
of  ours.  And  Joe  is  getting  back  enough  of  his 
old  vim  and  passion,  his  wild  radical  ideas  of  what 


210  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

may  still  be  done  with  the  town,  so  that  he  jars  on 
such  sensitive  souls — makes  'em  frown  and  bite 
their  moustaches  like  the  husbands  in  French 
plays.  On  the  other  hand  some  are  decidedly  for 
him.  I  hear  them  discuss  him  now  and  then." 

"Oh,  how  nice!"  sighed  Ethel. 

At  'times  she  grew  so  impatient  to  get  Joe  into 
this  other  world.  But  she  had  to  be  very  care 
ful.  Eepeatedly  she  warned  herself  that  Dwight, 
for  all  his  Paris  past  and  his  present  friendliness, 
was  very  fast  becoming  a  New  Yorker  like  the 
rest :  making  his  way  and  climbing  his  climb,  and 
wanting  no  climbers  who  had  to  be  carried. 
"Ethel  Lanier,  the  first  thing  you  know  you'll 
be  dropped  like  a  hot  potato,"  she  thought. 
'  '  There 's  nothing  unselfish  about  this  man.  Don 't 
make  him  feel  he  has  you  on  his  hands. ' '  And  she 
would  grow  studiously  abstract  and  detached  in 
her  talk  about  the  town.  But  it  kept  cropping  up 
in  spite  of  her,  this  warm  eagerness  to  "really 
live." 

"It's  funny,"  she  said  to  Dwight  one  day.  "I 
had  thought  of  music  and  all  that  I  wanted  as 
being  so  different  from  Joe's  work.  But  now  in 
this  city  that  you  seem  to  know,  I  find  that  what 
I  've  wanted  most  is  just  what  he  ought  to  want  in 
his  work !  The  two  go  together ! ' ' 

"Exactly!" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  211 

"The  city  Joe  once  lived  in."  She  frowned. 
"There  are  so  many  cities  in  New  York.  But 
I  don't  want  to  try  to  get  into  his,  until  I  can  do 
it  through  Joe  himself.  People  will  have  to  want 
me  because  I'm  the  wife  of  Joe  Lanier." 

"I  think  they'll  want  you  more  than  that." 
His  tone  was  most  reassuring.  "But  I  like  the 
way  you  are  going  about  it.  It's  so  delightfully 
novel,  you  see — conspiring  to  make  your  husband 
find  his  friends  all  by  himself — so  that  when  he 
has  found  them  he'll  come  to  you  with  a  beaming 
smile  and  say,  '  Woman,  I  bring  you  wealth  and 
fame  and  friends  in  abundance.  Take  them,  love, 
and  bless  me — for  I  have  done  all  this  for  you.'  " 

Ethel  smiled.  "I  don't  like  you  to  joke  about 
it,"  she  said. 

"Very  well,"  he  agreed,  "let's  get  back  to  the 
serious  work  of  his  resurrection.  You  asked  me 
to  recruit  other  brisk  diggers,  and  I've  hunted 
about  quite  a  bit.  There's  that  chap  Crothers  and 
his  wife,  but  so  far  they're  the  best  I  can  do— 
and  the  Crothers  pair  seem  rather  blind.  They 
can't  see  the  old  Joe  for  the  new." 

"You  mean  they  think  he's  hopeless,"  Ethel 
scornfully  put  in. 

"Oh,  we'll  make  them  open  their  eyes  in  time. 
I  drop  in  on  them  every  now  and  then.  I  had 
Crothers  to  the  club  last  week,  and  let  him  hear 


212  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

some    of    the    gossip    about    the    emerging    Joe 
Lanier." 

Often  he  talked  of  the  early  group  of  students 
over  in  Paris,  of  their  ideas,  ambitions,  and  their 
youthful  views  of  life,  which  for  all  their  gaiety 
had  been  so  fervid  and  intense.  But  to  Ethel,  be 
cause  she  herself  was  still  young,  their  dreams 
seemed  very  wonderful.  Some  she  had  hungrily 
read  about  long  ago  with  the  history  "prof "  at 
home.  But  the  world  which  the  little  suffragist 
had  revealed  to  her  pupils  had  been  more  heroic 
and  severe.  This  was  warmer,  dazzling,  this  had 
beauty,  this  was  art !  And  yet  not  weak  nor  tame 
nor  old — this  was  gloriously  new  in  the  way  it 
jabbed  deep  into  life  and  talked  of  really  changing 
it  all.  This  was  youth !  And  her  own  youth  re 
sponded  and  she  made  it  all  her  own.  She  was 
reading  now  voraciously,  with  a  sparkle  and  gleam 
of  hope  in  her  eyes.  She  was  coming  so  very  close 
to  her  goal,  or  rather  the  gate  of  her  promised 
land. 

At  times  she  grew  impatient  at  her  teacher's 
calm,  and  the  good-natured  easy  smile  with  which 
he  looked  upon  all  this.  "Oh,  why  not  get  ex 
cited  I"  she  thought.  She  felt  the  old  dreams  a 
bit  cold  in  him,  as  they  had  been  in  her  husband. 
And  in  dismay  she  would  ask  herself, 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  213 

"Are  they  all  too  old?  Is  just  the  fact  that 
I'm  ten  years  younger  than  Joe  and  his  friends 
going  to  mean  that  I'm  too  late — to  bring  back 
what  was  in  him?" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BUT  all  this  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the 
intensity,  the  ups  and  down,  in  her  relations 
with  Joe  himself.  He  often  looked  tired  and  har 
assed.  i  i  What 's  the  matter  with  me  ? "  he  seemed 
to  ask.  And  she  felt  his  two  sides  combatting  each 
other.  On  the  one  hand  were  the  influences  of 
Nourse  and  Dwight  and  the  men  at  the  club,  to 
which  he  went  nearly  every  day.  He  took  part  in 
discussions  there,  long  rambling  talks  and  argu 
ments.  And  his  old  ideals  were  rising  hungrily 
within  him.  But  meanwhile  the  business  man  in 
Joe  kept  savagely  putting  the  dreamer  down,  and 
for  days  he  would  plunge  into  his  work  and  the 
fever  of  the  money  game.  Joe  had  been  so  suc 
cessful  of  late ;  and  she  knew  that  in  his  office  that 
odious  press  agent  was  for  ever  at  him.  From 
Nourse  she  learned  that  her  husband  was  even 
still  considering  the  scheme  for  a  row  of  buildings 
named  after  the  presidents.  And  Ethel  had  a 
sinking  of  heart. 

"If  he  does  that,  I'm  lost,"  she  decided.  But 
she  would  shake  off  such  fears,  as  she  felt  again 
the  old  Joe  emerge,  the  Joe  of  dreams  and  startling 
plans.  And  she  grew  excited  as  she  thought, 

214 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  215 

"Oh,  if  he'll  only  let  himself  go!  I  don't  want 
him  just  nice  and  tame  and  refined !  I  don 't  want 
only  friends  like  that!  I  want — I  want — " 

What  she  wanted  was  still  exceedingly  vague, 
and  Ethel  could  not  put  it  in  words.  It  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  teachings  of  the  little  history 
"prof"  at  home.  She  wanted  the  artist  in  him  to 
rise,  the  creative  soul  of  him!  Cautiously  she 
probed  his  thoughts — now  tender  and  maternal  to 
ward  him  in  his  tired  moods,  now  alive  and  inter 
ested  as  she  got  him  talking.  Bits  came  out.  Joe 
was  so  plainly  tortured  by  the  struggle  going  on 
inside.  She  felt  at  once  pity  and  admiration,  and 
was  deeper  in  love  with  him  than  she  had  ever 
been  before.  She  felt  the  excitement  of  a  fight 
with  hope  of  victory  close  ahead.  She  took  care 
in  her  dress  and  manner  to  give  him  little  sur 
prises  at  night,  and  by  her  cheery  comradeship 
and  her  warm  beauty  of  body  and  soul,  Ethel  drew 
him  on  and  on.  At  such  times  she  would  often 
lose  all  memory  of  her  scheming  and  would  give 
up  to  her  love,  which  had  become  a  passion  now. 

But  always  she  came  back  to  her  plan.  Not 
openly,  for  she  had  to  be  careful ;  she  worked  at 
him  in  little  ways.  She  stirred  his  youth  and  his 
cast-off  dreams  by  her  own  youth  and  zest  for  it 
all.  She  got  him  to  tell  her  of  Nourse  and  Dwight, 
the  old  friends  she  herself  had  put  on  his  trail, 


216  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

and  of  new  friends  he  had  met  in  his  club —  "the 
club  I  elected  you  to, ' '  she  exulted.  But  the  next 
instant  she  would  add,  "Oh,  Ethel,  you're  so  ig 
norant  !  If  you  only  knew  about  his  work ! ' '  And 
knitting  her  brows  she  would  listen  hard  while  he 
talked  of  steel  construction.  As  with  her  encour 
agement  he  talked  on  rapidly,  absorbed,  Ethel 
would  clutch  at  this  and  that.  She  learned  of 
books  and  magazines  on  architecture  here  and 
abroad.  Stealthily  she  noted  them  down,  and 
those  she  could  not  purchase  she  hunted  up  in 
libraries.  Nourse  was  a  great  help  to  her  here. 
He  came  to  see  her  now  and  then ;  and  though  he 
still  had  his  discouraging  moods,  at  other  times 
he  was  friendly  and  kind.  Enjoying  this  con 
spiracy  with  the  charming  young  Mrs.  Lanier,  he 
expressed  his  gallantry  by  bringing  her  books  of 
appalling  size.  But  some  had  beautiful  illustra 
tions  that  set  her  to  imagining.  Eagerly  she 
groped  her  way  deep  into  the  history  of  the  build 
ing  of  cathedrals  and  palaces  in  times  gone  by. 
And  the  long  majestic  story  of  man's  building  on 
the  earth  thrilled  her  to  the  very  soul.  Joe  must 
make  his  place  in  it  all ! 

When  on  coming  home  at  night  he  dumped  a 
pile  of  work  on  the  table,  she  would  unobtrusively 
slip  some  book  beside  it.  She  grew  to  know  which 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  217 

ones  tempted  him  most.  He  had  been  surprised 
and  amused  at  first  at  her  interest  in  architecture 
— and  secretly  a  little  disturbed,  suspecting  what 
lay  behind  it.  But  as  autumn  drew  on  he  read 
more  and  more  of  the  books  she  kept  putting  in 
his  way.  While  he  read  she  would  sit  with  a  novel 
or  sew.  She  would  glance  up  with  some  remark, 
and  they  would  talk  and  then  read  on.  Subtly 
she  made  the  atmosphere.  She  often  brought 
Paris  into  their  talks.  She  spoke  longingly  of  the 
shops  and  plays,  and  all  she  wanted  to  see  over 
there.  And  she  almost  succeeded  in  making  him 
promise  to  take  her  over  the  following  spring. 

Joe  was  happy  at  such  times,  when  she  could 
make  him  leave  business  alone.  And  although 
he  had  many  relapses,  when  night  after  night  he 
would  sit  by  the  table  planning  more  horrible 
"junk  for  the  Bronx,"  with  an  inner  smile  she 
saw  how  often  her  husband  scowled  at  such  labour 
now.  She  heard  of  changes  in  the  office. 

"We're  still  building  junk,"  Nourse  confided 
one  day,  "but  it  isn't  quite  as  bad  as  before.  Joe 
wants  the  money  just  as  hard,  but  he's  plainly 
jarred  by  some  of  the  jobs.  He  even  fought  his 
press  agent  last  week!" 

One  night  Joe  suggested  awkwardly, 

"Suppose  we  try  Bill  Nourse  again.    Let  me 


218  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

bring  him  home  to  dinner,  I  mean.  He  isn  't  espe 
cially  cheery,  God  knows — but  he  seems  so  damna 
bly  lonely  this  fall. ' ' 

"Very  well,  dear — if  you  want  to,"  she  sighed. 
She  had  told  Nourse  to  hint  he  was  lonely. 

When  Nourse  came  to  dinner  that  Saturday 
night,  Joe  was  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  way 
his  partner  seemed  to  get  on  now  with  his  wife. 
The  visit  indeed  was  such  a  success  that  it  was  not 
long  before  Joe  proposed  bringing-home  "an  old 
pal  of  mine — fellow  named  Dwight."  To  this, 
too,  Ethel  assented,  and  when  Dwight  arrived  one 
night  she  greeted  him  very  graciously, 

6 '  I  feel  as  though  I  knew  you, ' '  she  said.  "  Pve 
heard  Joe  talk  of  you  so  much." 

To  Joe's  delight  they  got  on  like  old  friends. 
And  when  Dwight  spied  the  piano  there  and 
learned  of  her  interest  in  music,  he  insisted  on 
trying  her  voice,  and  was  loud  in  his  praise  of  its 
promise.  Before  he  left,  it  was  arranged  that  she 
should  come  to  his  studio  and  take  lessons  twice 
a  week.  Openly  his  pupil  now,  she  could  speak  of 
him  to  Joe,  and  he  came  to  dine  with  them  often. 

How  smoothly  things  were  working  out.  If 
there  were  any  cloud  upon  the  horizon  it  was  the 
occasional  presence  of  Amy's  old  friend,  Fanny 
Carr.  Fanny  had  been  abroad  through  the  sum- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  219 

mer,  but  in  October  she  had  returned.  She  had 
come  to  see  Ethel  several  times,  in  the  same  de 
terminedly  friendly  way;  and  Nourse  reported 
that  she  was  going  frequently  to  see  Joe  at  his 
office  about  her  eternal  money  affairs.  And  the 
fact  that  Joe  never  spoke  of  it  only  made  the 
matter  worse.  For  Joe  still  had  his  money  side, 
and  Fanny  knew  how  to  flatter  him  so.  He  still 
had  his  loyalty  to  his  first  wife,  and  Fanny  so 
cleverly  played  to  that.  "And  he  likes  her,  too — 
clothes,  voice,  perfumery  and  all!"  Ethel  would 
declare  to  herself  in  anger  and  vexation.  Oh, 
these  women  who  used  sex  every  minute!  How 
could  men  be  so  easily  fooled  ? 

"You  can't  change  a  man  in  a  minute,"  she 
thought.  "Kemember  Amy  had  him  five  years." 
Amy  had  planted  so  deep  in  him  the  feeling  that 
money  is  everything;  she  had  got  the  fever  into 
his  blood.  And  Fanny  was  there  to  keep  it  alive 
by  her  flattery  of  his  money  success.  And  for 
Ethel,  even  still,  it  was  decidedly  unsafe  to  criti 
cize  Joe  in  some  of  his  moods.  As  autumn 
changed  to  winter,  these  moods  grew  much 
more  frequent.  What  was  worrying  him?  She 
couldn't  find  out.  She  sent  for  Nourse  and  asked 
him,  "What's  going  on  in  the  office?" 

"The  press  agent  is  pushing  him  hard,"  was 
Nourse 's  gloomy  answer,  "for  that  row  of  patri- 


220  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

otic  atrocities  up  on  Eiverside  Drive."  Ethel 
squirmed. 

"But  lie  won't !"  she  cried.    "He  couldn't !" 

"Oh,  yes  he  could, "  Joe's  partner  growled. 
"There's  so  much  money  in  it!" 

"If  he  puts  that  through  I'm  done  for!"  Ethel 
told  herself  that  night.  1 1  His  name  will  be  a  per 
fect  joke — among  all  the  people  I  want  to  know! 
And  they'll  all  keep  away  from  us  as  though  he 
were  running  a  yellow  journal !  And  then  her 
friends  will  crowd  about — because  we'll  be  so  rich, 
you  see !  Oh,  damn  money !  Damn !  Damn ! ' ' 

She  was  lying  sleepless  on  her  bed,  and  Joe  was 
sleeping  by  her  side.  She  sat  up  now  and  looked 
at  his  face  in  the  dim  light  from  the  window. 

"If  you  get  very  rich,"  she  thought,  "and  mid 
dle-aged  and  very  fat  in  body  and  soul,  get  to  care 
only  for  building  '  junk'  and  for  going  about  with 
Amy's  friends — I  wonder  what  would  I  do  then?" 
Again  the  words  of  young  Mrs.  Grewe  came  up  in 
her  mind:  "You  can  get  out  whenever  you 
choose."  She  frowned.  "But  there  are  the  chil 
dren.  And  besides,  I  love  you,  Joe — yes,  more 
than  ever,  and  in  a  queer  way!  I'm  fighting  for 
what  I  love  in  you,  but  at  the  same  time  I  love  you 
all — every  bit  of  you!"  Breathing  quickly  now, 
she  sank  back  on  her  pillow,  and  there  she  soon 
grew  quiet  again.  "  So  we  '11  fight  it  out  once  and 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  221 

for  all.  You've  got  to  drop  this  plan  of  yours." 
One  evening  that  same  week  when  Nourse  had 
come  to  dinner,  she  led  the  talk  by  slow  degrees 
to  that  other  plan  of  Joe's — the  one  with  terrace 
gardens.  Soon  she  had  Nourse  talking  about  it, 
and  seeing  her  husband  grow  morose  she  grew 
cheerily  interested. 

"Oh,  I'm  very  dull,  I  suppose,"  she  said  at  the 
end  with  a  quizzical  smile,  "but  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  get  it  clear.  Couldn't  you  draw  it!" 
Nourse  smiled  at  this,  for  he  saw  what  she  was 
driving  at. 

"No,  I'm  poor  at  that,"  he  said. 
"Then,  Joe,  you  sketch  it  out  for  me." 
Joe  put  down  his  paper  and  began  in  surly 
fashion.  But  as  he  sketched  more  and  more  rap 
idly,  she  saw  the  thing  take  hold  of  him.  With 
little  exclamations  and  questions  Ethel  drove  him 
on.  She  thought  it  a  fascinating  plan  but  the  de 
tails  puzzled  her  still,  she  said,  and  the  rough 
sketch  he  had  drawn  was  very  unsatisfactory. 
She  begged  him  to  draw  it  on  a  large  scale,  and 
he  set  out  to  do  so.  But  his  hand  was  inexpert. 
Although  once  the  most  brilliant  designer  in  town, 
for  years  Joe  had  stuck  to  the  business  side,  and 
his  hand  had  grown  clumsy,  his  memory  cold. 
Ethel  had  known  of  this  from  Nourse.  And  now 
probing  by  her  questions  as  to  details  here  and 


222  HIS   SECOND   WIPE 

there,  with  Nourse  helping  at  her  side,  she  re 
vealed  Joe's  weakness  to  himself.  A  scared 
angry  look  came  into  his  eyes.  Stubbornly  he 
worked  on  and  on,  but  the  thing  would  not  come  as 
it  used  to ! 

And  this  revealing  process  continued  until 
Nourse  with  masculine  pity  dropped  out  of  the 
torturing  and  went  home.  But  Ethel  gently  en 
couraged  Joe,  and  in  his  dogged  persistency  he 
kept  at  it  half  the  night.  The  more  tired  he  grew, 
the  worse  was  his  work.  And  again  and  again,  as 
she  glanced  at  his  face,  she  saw  that  frightened 
look  in  his  eyes.  It  almost  brought  the  tears  in 
her  own,  but  steadily  she  kept  thinking, 

"I'm  scaring  him  badly,  and  that's  what  he 
needs.  For  years  he  has  been  telling  himself  that 
first  he  would  make  money  and  then  he  would  work 
out  his  ideals.  But  he's  frightened  now.  He's 
wondering  if  he  has  put  it  off  too  long!" 

Pitilessly  she  goaded  him  on.  Then  at  last  she 
relented  and  began  to  persuade  him  to  go  to  bed. 
How  white  and  haggard  and  queer  he  looked. 
Again  a  lump  rose  in  her  throat.  Soon  she  was 
saying  quietly, 

"I  should  think  that  some  day,  dear,  you'd  want 
to  go  back  to  Paris  and  work. " 

He  made  no  answer. 

But  in  the  weeks  that  followed,  she  dropped  this 


HIS    SECOND   WIFE  223 

thought  again  and  again  into  his  mind.  Paris, 
study,  work,  old  dreams — she  played  these  against 
his  business,  against  Amy  and  her  friends  and  the 
flattery  of  Fanny  Carr,  against  that  odious  press 
agent  and  the  plan  for  Riverside  Drive. 

"Has  he  turned  it  down?"  she  inquired  of  his 
partner. 

"Not  yet,"  was  the  answer.  "It's  still  in  the 
air." 

"I  wish  this  were  over,"  Ethel  thought.  Joe's 
face  had  grown  so  queer  and  drawn  that  some 
times  as  she  looked  at  him  a  sickening  dread  stole 
into  her  mind.  "Is  he  really  too  old?"  she  asked 
herself. 

One  Saturday  night  when  he  came  home,  with  a 
sudden  leap  of  compassion  she  saw  what  a  day 
he  had  been  through.  "But  he  is  through! 
Something  has  happened ! ' '  she  thought.  And  she 
treated  him  very  tenderly — both  because  of  the 
state  he  was  in,  and  more  perhaps  because  she 
knew  how  bad  it  would  be  for  both  of  them  if  he 
had  decided  against  her. 

"How  has  the  work  been  going?"  she  asked. 
He  looked  at  her  almost  with  dislike. 

"For  a  month,"  he  said,  "you've  been  trying 
to  make  me  give  up  that  Eiverside  scheme."  He 
paused,  and  her  heart  was  in  her  mouth. 

"I  haven't  said  so,  have  I?" 


224  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

"No — you  haven't  said  so,"  he  growled. 

"Well?" 

"  It 's  off.    I  Ve  dropped  it.  ' ' 

She  started  to  embrace  him,  but  saw  at  once 
it  would  be  a  mistake. 

"Thank  you,  Joe,"  she  said  softly,  and  went 
into  the  nursery.  It  was  so  dark  and  quiet  there. 
She  had  a  cry. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  next  morning  Emily  Giles  returned  from 
a  visit  back  in  Ohio. 

"How  have  things  been  going V9  she  asked. 

' '  Very  well  indeed, ' '  said  Ethel,  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  smile.  She  and  Emily  understood 
each  other,  though  very  little  had  ever  been  said. 

"Mr.  Lanier  still  working  hard?" 

"Yes,  poor  dear,"  said  Ethel,  "but  it  has  been 
so  good  for  him."  And  at  that  a  look  of  grim 
relish  came  on  Emily 's  sallow  face. 

"You  know  I'm  getting  to  like  this  town,"  she 
remarked  with  a  genial  air.  "I  wonder  what '11 
the  winter  be  like?" 

"Oh,  I  think  we'll  do  nicely,  Emily.  I've  quite 
a  few  plans  in  my  head. ' 9 

"  I  '11  bet  you  have, ' '  said  Emily.  And  she  went 
to  don  her  "uniform." 

In  these  days,  again  and  again  a  sense  of  being 
just  on  the  eve  of  something  very  exciting  gave 
Ethel  a  new  zest  in  life. 

One  day  in  the  hall  downstairs  she  came  upon 
young  Mrs.  Grewe.  Ethel  gave  a  little  start  and 
then  swiftly  reddened.  And  she  saw  the  young 
widow  smile  at  that,  and  it  made  her  annoyed  with 

225 


226  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

herself  for  having  been  so  clumsy.  i '  I  '11  show  her 
I  'm  not  such  a  prude, ' '  she  thought.  And  having 
learned  that  Mrs.  Grewe  had  taken  another  apart 
ment  here,  Ethel  went  to  see  her — with  a  safe  little 
feeling  that  Mrs.  Grewe  would  have  too  much 
sense  to  return  the  call.  This  would  end  it — 
pleasantly. 

The  visit  was  a  decided  success.  Mrs.  Grewe 
was  back  from  Europe  sooner  than  she  had  ex 
pected — for  reasons  she  did  not  explain.  "And 
now  I'm  looking  about,"  she  said,  "for  another 
old  lady  from  Boston.  I  rent  a  new  one  every 
year."  Ethel  stayed  for  tea.  For  nearly  eight 
months  she  had  had  no  woman  to  talk  to,  but 
Fanny  Carr  and  Emily  Giles.  And  she  found  it 
very  pleasant  to  be  chatting  here  so  cosily.  Not 
that  she  meant  to  keep  it  up.  This  sort  of 
woman!  H'm — well,  no.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
why  not?  After  all,  New  York  was  a  very  big 
city. 

"I'm  never  going  to  shut  myself  up  in  one  little 
circle  of  people,"  she  thought.  "I  mean  to  keep 
rubbing  up  against  life." 

There  was  an  added  pleasure,  too,  in  the  vague 
warm  self-confidence  which  the  young  widow  gave 
to  her.  * '  You  can  take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear, ' ' 
said  Mrs.  Grewe 's  small  lustrous  black  eyes. 

"Well?    Is  he  treating  you  better?"  she  asked. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  227 

"Yes,"  said  Ethel. 

"He's  very  wise."    They  smiled  at  each  other. 

"He's  becoming  quite  sensible,"  Ethel  said. 

"And  have  you  found  those  friends  you 
wanted!" 

"They're  in  sight,"  was  Ethel's  answer.  Her 
hostess  smiled  good  humouredly. 

"You  won't  be  able  to  keep  me,"  she  said. 
"He  won't  stand  that—" 

Ethel  knit  her  brows. 

"He'll  stand  a  good  deal,"  she  answered, 
"when  once  I  know  where  I  stand  myself." 

"In  the  meantime  you'd  better  leave  me  alone." 

The  two  parted  in  affable  fashion. 

"There,"  thought  Ethel  in  relief.  "I  got 
through  that  rather  nicely.  I  needn't  go  again, 
of  course." 

She  had  started  out  for  a  brisk  walk,  and  she 
drew  a  deep  breath  of  the  frosty  air.  The  air  in 
New  York  was  often  so — gay!  And  Mrs.  Grewe 
had  given  her  such  a  feeling  of  independence. 
She  saw  a  man  turn  and  look  at  her — the  beast! 
But  she  smiled  as  she  hurried  on  toward  the  Park. 
Still,  the  brief  visit  had  been  rather  daring. 
Joe  would  not  have  liked  it  at  all.  He  would  have 
been  perfectly  furious ! 

'  '  However ! ' '  She  walked  briskly  on.  i '  What 's 
the  difference  between  Mrs.  Grewe  and  his  own 


228  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

dear  friend,  Fanny  Carr?"  she  asked.  "Nothing 
whatever — except  that  Fanny,  so  far  as  we  know, 
has  taken  the  trouble  with  each  man  to  have  a 
wedding  and  a  divorce.  The  only  other  difference 
is  that  Fanny  has  no  taste  at  all,  while  Mrs.  Grewe 
has  heaps  of  it!  And  she  reads  things — even 
Shaw;  and  she  likes  good  music,  too.  She  is 
going  tonight  to  ' Salome.'  "  .  .  .  For  a  moment 
Ethel  let  her  mind  run  over  all  the  operas  she  her 
self  was  going  to  hear,  and  the  concerts,  and  the 
plays  she  would  see  and  the  dinners  she  would  go 
to,  the  talks  in  which  she  would  take  part.  She 
could  see  herself — just  scintillating!  .  .  .  With  a 
jerk  she  came  back  to  Mrs.  Grewe.  U0h,  I  guess 
it  isn't  very  defiling  to  turn  to  her  from  Fanny 
Carr!  I'll  do  as  I  please!"  she  impatiently 
thought. 

Still,  it  had  been  rather  daring.  It  fitted  in  ex 
actly  with  several  talks  she  had  had  of  late  with 
Dwight,  her  music  teacher:  talks  in  which  each 
one  of  them  had  taken  rather  a  challenging  tone 
that  had  grown  distinctly  intimate.  One  night 
when  Joe  was  out  of  town  she  had  gone  with 
Dwight  to  the  opera.  And  she  had  not  mentioned 
it  to  Joe — not  that  she  felt  guilty  at  all,  she  had 
simply  dropped  it  out  of  her  mind.  In  love  with 
her  husband?  Yes,  indeed.  And  let  Dwight  or 
any  other  man  try  to  go  the  least  bit  too  far — 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  229 

11  As  Fanny  doubtless  does  with  Joe,"  she  sud 
denly  added  to  herself.  For  a  moment  she  walked 
viciously.  Then  she  thought  again  of  Dwight. 
He  had  told  her  she  really  had  voice  enough  with 
which  to  go  on  the  stage  if  she  chose. 

"Though  I  hope  you  won't,"  he  had  added. 

"Why  not?"  she  had  asked.  In  reply  he  had 
hinted  at  perils  that  made  it  all  sound  rather 
thrilling. 

"Joe  wouldn't  like  it,"  Dwight  had  said. 

"I  might  sing  in  concerts — " 

"Joe  wouldn't  like  it." 

"Oh,  bother  Joe!" 

Dwight  had  smiled  a  bit.  "I  wonder  what  you 
will  do,"  he  had  said,  "if  Joe  flivvers?" 

"If  to  ttftoir* 

"Flivvers — drops  back  and  makes  money — 
turns  to  those  other  friends  of  his. ' ' 

"He  won't  do  that."  But  her  voice  had  been 
tense,  for  the  intimate  feeling  in  Dwight 's  tone 
had  made  her  a  bit  uneasy. 

"Well,"  he  had  told  her  in  a  low  voice,  "I'm 
a  friend  of  Joe's,  you  know,  and  I  don't  propose 
to  play  the  cad.  But  if  you  and  Joe  ever  should 
have  a  break — don't  drop  me,  too.  Do  you  under 
stand!" 

She  had  hesitated  a  moment  upon  just  how  to 
answer.  Her  heart  had  pounded  rapidly. 


230  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

6 i That  isn't  going  to  happen/'  she  had  told  him 
gravely. 

' < Sure  of  that!" 

'  *  Yes,  and  you  would  be — if  you  understood  me 
better. " 

"How!" 

"I'm  in  love  with  that  husband  of  mine  for 
life,"  she  had  informed  him  impressively. 

'  *  You  Ye  very  old-fashioned, ' '  he  had  smiled. 

"Not  at  all!" 

"Suppose  I  understand  you  better  than  you  do 
yourself?" 

She  had  glanced  at  him,  seen  the  gleam  in  his 
eyes  as  he  had  drawn  closer.  And  then  very  sud 
denly  she  had  found  it  hard  to  breathe.  What 
to  say  to  stop  him? 

"At  this  moment,"  she  had  nearly  gasped, 
"you  appear  to  me  so  very-^-fat!" 

That  had  bowled  him  over — naturally!  In  the 
next  few  moments  the  atmosphere  had  become 
chilly  and  depressed,  and  with  a  sudden  rush  of 
shame  the  certainty  had  grown  upon  her  that  she 
had  made  a  fool  of  herself,  that  he  had  meant  to 
do  nothing  at  all.  And  from  blushing  furiously 
she  had  turned  a  little  white,  and  had  said  to  him, 

"Please  forgive  me.  I  didn't  mean  that.  I 
was — just  a  silly  fool.  Let's  go  on  with  my  les- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  231 

* i  Now  that  I  Ve  learned  mine,  you  mean. ' ' 

And  then  regaining  control  of  herself  she  had 
turned  upon  him  quickly : 

"Oh,  be  sensible,  for  goodness'  sake!  How  are 
you  and  I  to  be  friends  if  you  act  like  this,  you 
silly  boy?  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
self  !" 

So  she  had  got  out  of  that  all  right,  and  had 
felt  tremendously  relieved.  It  was  not  only  that 
she  liked  the  man,  he  was  besides  her  only  hope, 
the  one  who  could  bring  friends  to  her.  "Women 
friends!  That's  what  I  need!"  All  this  was  so 
unsafe  at  times.  Her  husband's  business,  his  two 
sides,  Fanny  Carr  and  her  scheming,  Dwight  and 
his  blue,  twinkling  eyes,  Mrs.  Grewe  and  her  smil 
ing  good-fellowship — were  all  very  nice  and  ex 
citing.  But  safe  1  Oh,  by  no  means ! 

But  today  as  Ethel  walked  on  through  the  Park, 
she  smiled  to  herself  expectantly.  For  Dwight 
had  promised  the  next  week  to  bring  Sally  Croth- 
ers  to  see  her.  "If  only  I  can  get  on  with  her! 
She's  my  kind — I  know  she  is — she's  just  exactly 
what  I  want.  I  don't  want  to  be  anything  wild — 
not  Mrs.  Grewe  nor  Fanny  Carr.  I  want  to  be 
myself,  that's  all,  and  happy  with  my  husband!" 

She  turned  abruptly  toward  her  home.  * '  In  the 
meantime  I  am  going  back  to  give  the  baby  his 
bath,"  she  thought.  She  glanced  at  the  watch  on 


232  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

her  gloved  wrist.    And  a  man  who  looked  like  a 
detective,  or  a  villain  in  the  "  movies, "  looked 
after  her  in  an  envious  way. 
" Who's  her  date  with?"  he  wondered. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  days  dragged  by.  She  had  anxious 
times.  What  would  Sally  Crothers  be  like! 
"And  what  in  the  world  will  she  think  of  me?  If 
she  doesn't  like  me — very  much — the  very  first 
time,  I'll  have  lost  my  chance.  For  she's  busy, 
her  life  is  full  of  things — planning  gardens  and 
running  about  with  her  friends.  And  she  won't 
so  much  as  bother  her  head ! ' '  Ethel  felt  a  dismal 
sinking.  In  vain  she  strove  to  assure  herself. 
Joe,  Nourse  and  then  Dwight,  one  after  the  other, 
had  all  bowed  down  before  her.  "Oh,  that  was 
very  simple ! ' '  she  thought.  '  '  They  're  only  men ! ' ' 
It  would  be  a  woman  this  time,  and  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  kind.  "What  a  dull  little  fool 
she'll  find  me,  in  spite  of  all  I  do  or  say!'?  It 
would  be  all  the  more  difficult  because  Mrs.  Croth 
ers  was  older.  "That  will  count  against  me.  No 
doubt  she's  beginning  to  show  her  age;  and  I'm 
young,  and  she  doesn't  want  any  young  things  to 
come  snooping  about  her  husband!  Then  there's 
Amy  and  the  quarrel  they  had,  and  she  '11  put  me 
and  Amy  in  the  same  class!  I'll  have  all  that  to 
fight  against!"  The  idea  of  settling  everything 
all  in  one  brief  encounter.  Oh,  it  was  too  mad 
dening  ! 

233 


234  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

"Now,  Ethel  Lanier,  for  goodness'  sake  stop 
fidgeting  like  a  nervous  old  maid!  This  isn't  the 
minister  coming  to  call ! ' ' 

On  the  day  before  the  expected  call,  Ethel  was 
just  on  the  point  of  going  out  for  the  afternoon 
to  do  some  shopping  and  shake  off  these  silly 
fears,  when  the  telephone  rang  and  a  few  moments 
later  the  maid  came  in  and  told  her  there  was  a 
visitor  downstairs.  In  an  instant  with  a  rush  of 
excitement  Ethel  knew  it  was  Sally  at  last. 
Dwight,  in  his  easy,  careless  way,  had  mixed  his 
dates  and  was  bringing  Sally  a  day  ahead !  How 
stupid  of  him!  "What  have  I  on?" 

•4Did  she  come  up?"  she  breathlessly  asked.     . 

"No,  Mrs.  Lanier,  she's  waiting  below." 

"Did  she  give  her  name?" 

"Yes— Mrs.  Carr." 

"Oh."  Ethel  gasped  and  sank  down  in  a  heap. 
"All  right,  ask  her  to  come  up,"  she  said,  in  a 
tone  of  indifference. 

When  the  maid  had  gone,  she  almost  called  her 
back.  She  did  not  want  to  see  Fanny  Carr. 
Still — why  not?  Oh,  let  her  come.  And  in  the 
two  or  three  minutes  that  followed,  Ethel  passed 
from  a  mood  of  depression  to  one  of  easy  good- 
natured  contempt.  She  was  no  longer  afraid  of 
Fanny,  for  Ethel  was  getting  Joe  in  hand.  "And 
as  soon  as  I  do,"  she  reflected,  "and  my  husband 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  235 

makes  a  name  as  an  architect  doing  great  big 
things,  wnat  harm  can  Fanny  do  me?"  As  she 
thought  of  the  brilliant  people  who  were  so  soon 
to  be  her  friends,  she  looked  upon  Fanny  Carr  and 
her  like  with  no  more  hatred  but  only  compassion. 
What  stupid  lives  they  were  leading. 

And  so  when  Fanny  came  into  the  room  Ethel 
received  her  kindly. 

But  Fanny  rather  smiled  at  that.  She  looked  a 
bit  seedy  as  to  her  dress,  and  yet  she  had  a  con 
fident  air.  She  took  in  the  fine  clothes  of  her 
handsome  young  hostess,  and  Ethel's  very  gra 
cious  air  and  the  almost  pitying  tone  of  her  voice 
— and  then  with  a  hard  little  smile,  "My,  what 
a  change, "  said  Fanny  softly.  Ethel  frowned  at 
her  tone.  This  might  be  rather  awkward. 

"You  mean  this  way  of  doing  my  hair1?"  she 
rejoined  good-humouredly.  "I  was  hoping  you 
would  notice  it." 

"Does  he?"  asked  Fanny. 

"What  do  you  mean?    Oh,  Joe  never — " 

"No.  Dwight,  my  dear."  The  hard  voice  of 
her  visitor  had  become  suddenly  low  and  clear. 
Ethel  looked  at  the  woman  then  and  slowly  red 
dened  to  her  ears.  And  the  consciousness  of 
blushing  made  her  all  the  angrier. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded. 
Her  voice  too  was  very  low,  and  it  trembled  only 


236  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

a  little ;  but  there  was  a  glint  in  her  brown  eyes, 
Fanny  gave  a  tense  little  laugh. 

"Look  here,"  she  said.  "Don't  let's  waste 
time.  Joe  may  be  coming  home,  you  know,  anc 
we  must  get  this  over  first. " 

"We'll  soon  get  it  over."  Ethel's  voice  was 
shaking  ominously.  Fanny  noticed  and  spoke 
fast. 

' '  Well,  then,  it 's  just  this, ' '  she  said.  < '  You  Ve 
made  up  your  mind  to  cut  Joe  off  from  all  his  old 
friends,  including  me.  And  I  might  have  stood 
for  that—  " 

"How  kind!" 

"If  I  hadn't  learned  of  the  raw  deal  you're 
giving  him.  Strip  him  of  friends  and  then  treat 
him  like  this!  Oh,  no,  not  if  I  can  help  it!" 
Plainly  Fanny  was  working  herself  into  a  rage 
to  match  that  of  her  hostess. 

"You'd  better  be  very  clear,  Mrs.  Carr,"  Ethel 
exclaimed,  leaning  forward.  Her  visitor  looked 
straight  back  at  her,  and  answered: 

1 1  Very.    I  mean  Dwight. ' ' 

Ethel  rose  abruptly. 

"That  will  be  enough,  I  think." 

"Oh,  will  it?" 

Ethel  wheeled  upon  her : 

'  *  What  a — loathsome  mind  you  have !  Will  you 
leave  me,  please?" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  237 

"No,  I'll  show  you  this.  And  then  we'll  get 
to  business."  And  Fanny  produced  a  large  en 
velope,  from  which  she  took  out  a  few  typewritten 
pages.  '  '  Just  look  these  over, ' '  she  advised,  * ;  and 
then  tell  me  whether  I  shall  go."  And  as  Ethel 
hesitated,  " You'd  better.  They're  very  impor 
tant." 

Ethel  took  them  and  read  them,  and  as  she  did 
so  her  rage  and  scorn  changed  first  into  bewilder 
ment  and  then  into  a  sickening  fright.  She  felt 
all  at  once  so  off  her  ground.  She  had  always 
heard  of  detectives  and  their  reports  of  shadowed 
wives,  but  that  sort  of  thing  had  just  been  in  the 
papers  and  had  never  seemed  very  real.  "This 
is  about  me!"  she  thought.  It  told  of  every  meet 
ing  she  had  had  with  Dwight,  in  his  studio  and  in 
other  places,  once  at  the  Ritz  where  they  had 
dined  and  gone  to  the  opera,  twice  in  the  Park 
where  they  had  walked.  Such  clean  times,  all 
three  of  them,  but  how  cheap  and  disgusting  they 
now  appeared!  For  here  were  bits  about 
Dwight 's  past,  his  record  with  women — two  were 
named.  He  had  been  a  co-respondent  once !  And 
his  studio  was  described  in  detail,  with  emphasis 
on  a  big  lounge  in  one  corner!  .  .  .  Suddenly  it 
was  laughable!  And  so  she  laughed  at  Fanny! 
And  Fanny  replied : 

"You  mean  he  won't  believe  it!" 


238  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Ethel  went  on  laughing.  Joe  wouldn't  believe 
it.  She  wished  he  would  come  and  turn  this 
woman  out  on  the  street.  She  felt  relief  unspeak 
able. 

"You've  forgo tten,"  Fanny  added,  "that  you 
lied  to  him  about  your  friend. ' ' 

"How  dare  you  say  that?" 

"Because  I  have  the  facts.  On  the  second  of 
December  Joe  brought  D  wight  to  dine  with  you, 
and  you  acted  as  though  you  'd  never  met.  I  gath 
ered  that  from  Joe  Jiimself  when  I  saw  him  the 
next  day.  While  the  truth  of  it  was  you'd  been 
seeing  Dwight  ever  since  the  first  of  October." 

"Yes?  That  will  be  easy  enough  to  explain." 
But  Ethel  felt  herself  turning  white.  She  sank 
down  and  thought,  "Now  you'll  need  all  your 
nerve.  Don't  get  faint,  you've  got  to  think 
clearly. ' '  But  she  was  not  given  time. 

"And  all  that  had  been  going  on  while  you  were 
supposed  to  be  home  with  the  baby."  Mrs.  Carr 
leaned  forward  briskly.  "Now  the  thing  for  you 
to  do  is  exactly  what  I  tell  you.  But  before  I  do 
that,  there's  just  one  thing  I  wish  you  to  under 
stand  about  me.  If  you  want  to  keep  Joe,  keep 
him.  I  don't  want  him — I  never  did.  I've 
laughed  at  you  again  and  again  for  what  you 
thought  I  was  trying  to  do.  All  I  want  is  to  be 
let  alone  to  go  on  with  Joe  as  I  always  have. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  239 

What  I  mean  by  that  you  won't  understand,  be 
cause  you  don't  understand  my  life.  A  woman 
like  me  in  this  city  needs  one  man  who'll  be  her 
friend — the  big  brother  idea — to  help  and  advise 
her,  carry  her  through  when  she's  down  a  bit. 
And  Joe  has  always  been  like  that. 

"Why?  Because  'of  Amy.  When  she  first 
came  to  New  York,  you  remember,  it  was  on  a 
visit  to  me.  I  had  known  her  back  in  boarding- 
school.  Well,  the  visit  lengthened  out.  I  saw 
how  crazy  she  was  for  the  town,  and  I  was  fairly 
well  off  then,  so  I  let  her  stay  and  gave  her  a 
home — let  her  meet  my  friends,  Joe  included.  I 
had  a  husband  at  the  time  who  was  in  the  real 
estate  business.  He  knew  Joe.  So  I  took  Joe 
and  handed  him  over  to  Amy.  And  though  she 
would  have  been  glad  enough  to  forget  the  debt, 
Joe  wasn't  that  kind.  So  that's  my  hold  on  him 
— perfectly  clean  and  above-board.  And  I  need 
him  in  my  business.  There  are  times  when  I'm 
down  and  need  his  money,  other  times  when  I 
need  his  name.  But  that  is  all.  And  if  he  has 
been  fool  enough  to  marry  a  giddy  young  girl 
like  you,  that's  his  own  look-out — I  won't  inter 
fere.  I  mean  I  won't  interfere  with  you  so  long 
as  you  don't  interfere  with  me.  You  let  me  go 
on  with  Joe  as  before,  and  he'll  never  see  these 
papers." 


240  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

With  a  sudden  fierce  impulse,  in  spite  of  her 
self,  Ethel  crumpled  them  up  in  her  hands. 

4  *  Don't  be  a  fool/'  said  Fanny.  "They're 
only  copies.  Give  them  back."  Ethel  did  so, 
mechanically.  "Now  what  will  you  do?  Which 
way  will  you  have  it?  He  may  be  here  any  min 
ute  now." 

She  waited,  but  got  no  reply.  She  saw  the  girl 
shiver  a  little. 

"What's  the  use  of  being  so  solemn  and 
scared?"  she  impatiently  asked.  "You're  run 
ning  no  more  risk  than  before.  So  far  as  I'm 
concerned,  my  dear,  you  can  go  right  on  with 
Dwight  if  you  wish.  All  I'm  asking  is  a  square 
deal." 

"But  she'll  ask  and  ask,"  thought  Ethel. 
' 1  She  '11  ask  of  me  anything  she  wants.  And  she  '11 
get  me  so  tangled  in  other  lies  that  then  I  wouldn't 
have  even  a  chance  of  making  Joe  see  how  things 
really  are." 

This  thought  cleared  her  mind  a  little. 

*  '  No, ' '  she  said.    ' '  You  can  tell  him. ' ' 

"What?" 

Ethel  looked  down  at  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and 
noticed  how  tightly  they  were  clenched.  She 
smiled  at  them. 

"Tell  him." 

"You're  sure  of  that?" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  241 

Ethel  nodded. 

"  Very  well !" 

''She's  uneasy,"  thought  Ethel,  "and  disap 
pointed — not  sure  of  herself.  I've  done  the  right 
thing." 

But  as  in  almost  perfect  silence  they  sat  waiting 
for  Joe  to  come  home,  her  decision  wavered  again 
and  again,  and  it  took  all  her  courage  to  hold  her 
self  in.  She  made  occasional  trite  remarks,  and 
received  replies  of  the  same  kind.  On  them  both 
the  tension  was  growing. 

"This  means  everything  to  you,  too,  Fanny, 
dear!"  Ethel  reflected  viciously.  "If  Joe  be 
lieves  me — you're  done  for!" 

At  each  slight  stir  that  Fanny  made,  Ethel 
hoped  she  had  lost  her  courage  and  was  getting 
ready  to  go.  But  Fanny  stayed  And  as  she  sat 
there  motionless,  what  a  strong  figure  she  grew 
to  be,  moment  by  moment,  in  Ethel's  eyes — strong 
in  spite  of  the  life  she  led,  of  clothes,  rich  feeding, 
drinking,  dancing,  old  age  swiftly  coming  on. 
Strong  nevertheless,  in  an  odious  way,  in  the 
loathsome  point  of  view  of  her  world  toward  love 
and  marriage.  It  had  set  her  to  prying  and 
landed  her  here — with  these  papers  in  her  hands ! 
That  was  her  way  of  looking  at  life,  and  a  mighty 
strong  way  it  appeared ! 

Suddenly  Ethel's   eye  was   caught   by  Amy's 


242  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

photograph  on  the  table.  By  degrees  in  the  last 
few  months  Joe  had  ceased  to  notice  it  there.  But 
how  he  would  notice  it  now,  very  soon,  as  soon  as 
he'd  read  what  Fanny  had  brought.  For  Amy 
had  taught  Joe  long  ago  to  be  jealous,  never  too 
sure  of  a  wife. 

"So  Amy  is  here  again,  after  all.  ...  I  won 
der  what  I  shall  say  to  Joe?  .  .  .  Oh,  rubbish! 
Use  more  common  sense!  All  I've  got  to  do  is 
to  make  him  see  why  I  never  told  him  about 
Dwight.  It  was  only  part  of  that  plan  I  had. 
But  what  a  fool !  Oh,  what  a  fool ! ' ' 

When  at  last  Joe's  key  was  heard  in  the  door, 
both  women  leaned  slowly  forward,  as  though  the 
strain  were  unbearable.  And  then  as  Joe  came 
into  the  hall,  Fanny  said  suddenly,  sharp  and 
clear, 

' '  No,  I  won 9t  keep  quiet !  Joe  has  got  to  be  told 
of  this ! ' '  Ethel  wheeled  on  her : 

"How  odious!" 

"I  can't  help  it — he's  my  friend!" 

And  the  next  moment,  with  Joe  in  the  room, 
both  women  were  talking  to  him  at  once — angrily, 
incoherently,  almost  shoving  each  other  away. 
But  only  for  a  moment.  It  was  too  disgusting! 
Ethel  left  off  and  stood  rigid  there,  while  Fanny 
talked  on  rapidly.  She  was  speaking  of  how 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  243 

Ethel  had  cut  off  Joe  from  Amy's  friends.  Ethel 
heard  only  bits  of  this,  for  it  all  seemed  so  con 
fused  and  unreal.  But  she  noticed  how  nervously 
tired  he  looked,  all  keyed  up  from  his  day  at  the 
office.  She  remembered  that  his  partner  was  out 
of  town  on  business,  that  Joe  had  been  running 
the  office  alone.  "He  will  be  hard  to  manage," 
she  thought.  He  interrupted  Fanny  in  a  sharp, 
excitable  tone. 

"What's  it  all  about?"  he  asked. 

"It's  time  you  saw  where  you  stand,  Joe  Lanier. 
Look  at  this  girl.  I  don't  blame  her,  God  knows. 
Look  how  young  she  is,  and  then  look  at  yourself. 
Here,  take  a  look  at  yourself  in  that  mirror.  Are 
you  still  young?  Can't  you  see  the  lines,  the  gray 
hairs,  Joe?  They're  coming — oh,  they're  com 
ing  !  Can  you  supply  all  the  love  she  wants  ? ' ' 

"Fanny?"  He  snapped  out  her  name  in  so 
ugly  a  voice  that  she  lost  no  time.  She  shoved 
those  papers  into  his  hands  and  began  to  tell  him 
what  they  were.  But  Joe  refused  to  read  them 
and  grew  each  moment  angrier. 

"Joe!"  cried  Fanny  sharply.  "When  you 
brought  Dwight  to  dinner  here,  he  met  your  wife 
as  though  for  the  first  time.  Did  you  know  they 
had  been  friends  for  months?"  And  at  his  star 
tled  look,  she  added,  "If  you  didn't,  you'd  better 
read  all  this!"  There  fell  a  sudden  silence. 


244  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"I'll  explain  everything — when  we're  alone," 
Ethel  managed  to  put  in.  How  queer  and  thick 
her  own  voice  sounded. 

Now  Joe  had  gone  into  the  hall  with  Fanny. 
Curtly  he  said  good-night  to  her.  The  door 
closed,  and  there  was  silence  again.  Why  didn't 
he  come  ?  He  must  be  standing  there  in  the  hall 
trying  to  get  hold  of  himself.  Oh,  how  terribly 
hurt  he  must  feel!  But  she  checked  the  sudden 
lump  in  her  throat.  "Bemember  now — just  com 
mon  sense !"  This  was  a  time  for  keeping  clear! 
But  Joe  had  come  back  into  the  room,  and  passing 
the  gilt  mirror  into  which  Fanny  had  told  him  to 
look,  he  stopped  a  moment. 

"Don't  do  that,  Joe!"  In  an  instant,  in  spite 
of  herself,  her  love  for  him  rose  up  in  a  wave, 
with  fear  and  pity  and  anger,  too.  She  came  to 
him,  and  her  voice  was  shaking.  ' '  Oh,  Joe — Joe ! 
Can't  you  see  it's  all  lies?  It's  so  loathsome — 
every  word!  And  so  cheap — so  cheap  and 
mean ! ' ' 

As  she  spoke,  his  eyes  were  rapidly  scanning 
the  report  he  still  had  in  his  hands.  Again  she 
noticed  how  tired  he  was.  He  looked  up  at  her : 

"I  know  it  is !  But  why  didn't  you  treat  it  like 
that!  Why  did  you  try  to  make  her  keep  quiet? 
Weren't  you  trying,  when  I  came  in?" 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  245 

"No!  No!  It  was  just  her  odious  trick — her 
pretending ! ' ' 

"Pretending?  How  about  you!  Why  did  you 
pretend,  when  I  brought  Dwight  here,  that  you'd 
never  laid  eyes  on  him  before?  Had  you  or 
hadn't  you?  Careful,  now!  Fanny  says  it  is  all 
here!" 

"I'll  explain  in  one  word!" 

"What's  the  word?  Say  it,  please — and  for 
God 's  sake  clear  this  up ! " 

She  was  breathing  hard,  frightened,  her  mind 
in  a  whirl.  Oh,  to  be  able  to  think  clearly !  Use 
a  little  common  sense ! 

1  '  Just  a  minute ! ' '  she  gasped.  ' '  You  '11  see  in  a 
minute — " 

"I  see  a  good  deal!  It's  right  in  your  eyes! 
What  are  you  looking  so  scared  about?  And 
what  did  she  say  about  my  being  old !  I  am  old — 
and  you're  young,  young!  And  a  beauty — just 
the  kind  for  Dwight!  Don't  I  know  of  his  love 
affairs?  Wasn't  he  at  it  way  back  in  Paris? 
Hasn  't  he  been — ever  since  ? ' ' 

"Be  careful,  Joe,"  she  cried  angrily.  But  in 
his  condition,  nerves  on  edge,  he  paid  no  heed  and 
went  rapidly  on: 

"I'm  just  a  business  man!  And  you've  made 
me  feel  your  contempt  for  all  that!  And  he's  a 


246  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

musician,  he's  different — he  has  exactly  what  you 
want!  So  you  went  to  his  studio  twice  a  week — 
for  months  and  months — without  letting  me  know 
— although  he  was  a  friend  of  mine!  And  you 
went  to  the  Ritz  and  the  opera!  And  then  I 
brought  him  here  to  dine!  God,  how  you  two 
must  have  smiled  at  each  other — when  I  wasn't 
looking  I" 

"Joe!     Joe!" 

"You  lied  to  me,  didn't  you,  when  he  came? 
You  say  you'll  explain  it  in  a  word !  Well,  what's 
the  word  ?  I  'm  waiting ! ' ' 

"There  isn't  any!"  Her  face  was  white.  "I 
don't  care  to  explain  to  you  now!"  she  cried.  He 
looked  at  her.  She  could  see  he  was  trembling, 
and  she  nearly  changed  her  mind.  But  her  anger 
came  again.  '  '  I  won 't ! "  she  thought.  '  '  Not  to 
night!" 

"Then  you  and  I  are  through,  you  know,"  he 
said  very  huskily.  He  turned  and  went  into  the 
hall,  and  a  moment  later  the  outer  door  closed0 
Ethel  sat  down  and  stared  blankly. 

"I  acted  like  an  idiot!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AS  she  sat  there  she  grew  furious  with  herself 
for  having  bungled  so.  Why  hadn  't  she  ex 
plained  to  him!  Why  hadn't  she  simply  told  him 
her  plan  for  giving  him  back  his  friends!  All  at 
once  she  could  hear  herself  saying  what  she  should 
have  said  to  Joe : 

"I  may  have  been  wrong  about  it,  Joe,  but  I 
thought  the  best  way  to  bring  you  back  to  all  the 
things  you  used  to  love  was  to  let  you  think  you 
were  doing  it.  So  I  let  you  and  Dwight  come 
together  alone.  I  kept  in  the  background,  as  I 
did  about  getting  you  into  that  club  of  yours. 
I  was  afraid  to  show  my  hand."  On  and  on  she 
talked  to  him.  Oh,  how  simple  and  convincing, 
strong,  and  sensible  and  true. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  it,  you  little  fool!  You 
acted  just  like  a  scared  young  girl  found  out  in 
doing  something  wrong!"  She  was  ready  to  cry, 
but  checked  herself.  "At  least  don't  be  a  baby 
now.  What  are  you  to  do  about  it!"  She  bit 
her  lip.  Now  it  was  too  late.  She  had  made  it 
worse — a  hundred  times !  All  at  once  she  rose 
and  began  to  walk.  "Oh,  rubbish!"  she  thought, 
impatiently.  ' '  You  're  not  to  give  up,  when  every 
thing  else  in  your  whole  life  was  going  so  per- 

247 


248  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

fectly  splendidly!  .  .  .  Why,  of  course.  That's 
it.  I'll  call  up  Nourse,  and  have  him  come  and 
explain  to  Joe  how  I  went  to  him  at  the  very 
start. " 

With  a  swift  feeling  of  relief  Ethel  went  to 
the  telephone. 

"Mr.  Nourse  is  out  of  town." 

"Oh,  yes.  Thank  you.  I'd  forgotten.  When 
do  you  expect  him  back?" 

"Not  until  the  end  of  the  week." 

As  Ethel  hung  up  the  receiver  she  felt  a  little 
faint  and  queer.  When  Joe  came  back  this  eve 
ning  she  would  have  to  face  him  alone !  In  vain 
she  angrily  told  herself  that  it  only  needed  com 
mon  sense.  The  picture  of  his  tired  face,  nerves 
all  on  edge,  rose  in  her  mind.  The  way  his  jeal 
ousy  had  flared  up!  No,  it  would  not  be  easy! 
She  might  even — fail  with  him!  At  the  thought, 
a  foolish  panic  came.  More  walking  was  re 
quired.  .  .  .  She  heard  Susette  beginning  her  sup 
per,  and  she  went  in  and  sat  with  the  child.  And 
at  first  that  worked  out  very  well.  Soon  she  was 
smiling  and  listening  to  the  ceaseless  chatter  of 
the  small  girl.  But  suddenly  Ethel  exclaimed  to 
herself, ' l  Suppose  I  do  fail,  after  all !  If  there 's  a 
divorce  he'll  take  them  both!"  She  jumped  up 
in  a  frightened  way,  and  went  into  her  bedroom. 
She  threw  herself  sobbing  on  the  bed — but  in  a 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  249 

few  minutes  regained  control  with  an  effort  and 
lay  there  motionless.  The  tangle  was  growing 
clearer  now. 

The  very  best  she  could  hope  was  to  make  Joe 
half  believe  her,  she  thought.  And  that  would 
mean  she  would  have  to  drop  Dwight  and  all 
chance  of  meeting  those  people  he  knew.  She 
would  live  with  a  Joe  so  suspicious  that  she  would 
be  under  his  friend,  Fanny  Carr.  "  She  '11  be  my 
friend,  and  bring  me  in  touch  with  whatever  other 
people  she  likes.  Pll  have  to  be  nice  to  them — 
every  one.  And  I'll  live  her  life.  Amy's  life." 
She  looked  at  the  large  photograph  over  on  Joe's 
chiffonier.  "Perhaps  after  all  I  shall  be  like  her. 
How  do  I  know  what  she  was  at  my  age?  As  I 
grow  older,  all  hemmed  in,  why  not  stop  caring 
for  anything  else? 

"Oh,  now  do  let's  be  sensible!"  With  an  im 
patient  movement  of  her  lithe  beautiful  figure 
Ethel  was  up  off  the  bed  and  walking  the  room 
with  grim  resolution  in  her  brown  eyes.  Soon 
she  was  much  quieter.  She  felt  the  warm  youth 
within  her  rise.  There  must  be  a  way!  So  far, 
so  good.  But  the  moment  she  tried  to  think  what 
way,  again  at  once  she  was  off  her  ground.  What 
could  she  do  or  say  to  Joe!  Her  failure  to  man 
age  him  that  afternoon  had  shaken  her  confidence 
in  herself.  Ethel  was  only  twenty-five,  and  now 


250  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

she  felt  even  younger  than  that.  All  at  once  in  a 
sickening  way  her  courage  oozed;  she  felt  herself 
ignorant  and  alone.  Why  did  not  Joe  come  back, 
she  asked.  Was  he  going  to  stay  away  all  night? 
And  if  he  did,  what  would  it  mean!  She  remem 
bered  what  he  had  said  when  he  left :  ' '  Then  you 
and  I  are  through,  you  know."  All  right,  then 
what  was  he  going  to  do?  "I  don't  even  know 
how  a  man  goes  about  it,  if  he  wants  to  get  a 
divorce !"  And  panic  seized  her  as  before. 

"I  can't  do  this  all  by  myself!  I  can't  talk  to 
him  as  I've  got  to  talk — not  till  I  know  just  what 
to  say!  I  bungled  it  so!  I  need  sound  advice! 
Oh,  for  somebody  to  help  me!"  She  thought  of 
Dwight,  but  she  would  not  go  near  him!  She 
loathed  the  very  sight  of  him  now !  Why  had  not 
he  told  her  of  those  other  affairs  of  his  that  could 
rise  in  this  way  against  herself?  Why  had  he  al 
lowed  her  to  do  those  few  little  daring  things, 
which  looked  so  cheap  and  disgusting  in  the  detec 
tive 's  typed  report?  And  besides,  if  she  did  want 
to  see  him,  could  she,  without  being  watched  by 
some  wretched  detective?  For  the  whole  town 
seemed  bristling  with  detectives  and  police.  And 
the  city  of  New  York  felt  cold.  As  she  lay  on  her 
bed,  a  sudden  gay  laugh  from  a  neighbouring  win 
dow  recalled  to  her  mind  that  night  long  ago,  her 
first  in  New  York,  when  she  had  listened  excitedly 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  251 

and  thought  of  all  the  stories  here,  both  sad  and 
comic. 

i  l  Well,  I  'm  a  story  now, ' '  she  thought.  '  *  And  I 
suppose  I'm  comic !"  The  angry  tears  rose  in 
her  eyes.  Oh,  for  a  real  friend!  There  was 
Emily  Giles,  of  course,  but  this  was  Emily's  night 
out ;  and  besides,  in  matters  of  this  kind  she  would 
be  worse  than  useless.  "What  I  need  is  a  woman 
who  knows  this  town — and  all  its  ways — and  what 
to  do !"  As  the  evening  drew  on  and  still  Joe  did 
not  come,  again  and  again  she  felt  ready  to  scream. 
And  though  she  savagely  held  herself  in,  each 
time  was  harder  than  the  last. 

"Something  has  simply  got  to  be  done!"  she 
told  herself  after  one  outbreak  like  that.  Then 
all  at  once  came  the  recollection  of  young  Mrs. 
Grewe  downstairs.  "I  must  have  some  one  or  I'll 
go  mad!"  And  she  hurried  to  the  telephone. 
But  in  the  hall  she  stopped  and  frowned.  "No, 
I  won't  call  her  up,"  she  thought.  "That  in 
quisitive  telephone  girl  downstairs  would  begin 
to  gossip  about  it  at  once."  For  the  same  reason 
Ethel  did  not  take  the  elevator.  She  ran  quickly 
down  two  flights  and  rang  at  Mrs.  Grewe 's  door. 
There  was  silence.  She  waited  some  moments, 
then  rang  again.  ' i  Oh,  she 's  out — I  know  she  is!" 
The  thought  brought  a  sickening  empty  feeling. 
She  would  have  to  face  this  night  alone ! 


252  HIS   SECOND    WIFE 

But  abruptly  the  door  opened,  and  a  sleepy 
startled  maid  looked  at  her  in  dull  surprise. 

"Is  she  out  tonight?  Is  Mrs.  Grewe  out?" 
Ethel  asked  impatiently. 

' '  Yes — she 's  out, ' '  the  girl  replied. 

But  glancing  behind  her  Ethel  saw  a  high  hat 
and  an  overcoat  on  a  chair,  and  with  a  quick  little 
"Oh!"  of  dismay,  she  turned  and  hurried  away 
down  the  hall.  She  heard  the  maid's  chuckle 
behind  her.  "Oh-h!"  She  could  feel  her  cheeks 
burning.  And  when  she  got  back  to  her  bed 
room  upstairs,  out  of  the  shame  and  humility 
rose  a  fierce  anger  which  downed  all  her  fears  at 
the  thought  of  this  night  or  of  anything  else. 

"I'll  never  be  like  her!"  she  exclaimed. 
"There'll  never  be  a  high  hat  in  my  hall  at  this 
time  of  night — nor  a  Boston  old  maid — nor  a 
snickering  telephone  girl  downstairs!  Never! 
I  '11  make  myself  ugly  first !  For  I  'm  not  like  you, 
I  'm  not  like  you !  I  Ve  had  a  child,  to  begin  with 
— and  I  'm  going  to  keep  him,  he 's  mine ! ' ' 

There  came  again  a  period  of  swift  determined 
thinking.  And  at  last  with  a  quick  thrill  of  relief 
she  remembered  Mrs.  Crothers  was  coming  with 
Dwight  to  call  the  next  day.  Sally  Crothers — 
Joe's  old  friend!  "If  she  believed  in  me — really 
believed  in  all  that  I  was  trying  to  do — she  could 
give  me  just  the  advice  I  need!  It  may  be  I'm 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  253 

just  silly — and  she  could  give  me  her  common 
sense!  She  might  even  talk  to  Joe  herself — and 
make  him  realize  my  whole  plan!  If  only  I  can 
get  her  to  help  me ! ' ' 

Ethel  went  at  once  to  her  desk  and  rapidly  wrote 
a  note  to  Dwight,  saying  she  thought  it  would  be 
better  to  let  Mrs.  Crothers  come  alone. 

"For  I  could  do  nothing,  with  him  around. 
And  I've  got  to  do  everything!"  she  thought  as 
she  folded  the  envelope. 

In  the  morning  she  heard  from  Joe.  When  a 
messenger  came  with  a  note,  she  tore  it  open  and 
read  this: 

"Please  give  this  man  my  suit-case  and  put  in 
what  things  I  need.  I  shall  stay  here  at  the  club 
awhile — it  will  be  better  all  around.  I  am  sorry 
for  the  scene  I  made  and  I  don't  want  another. 
If  you  have  any  real  explanation,  send  me  word 
and  I  will  come.  But  understand  it  has  got  to  be 
real.  If  it  is  not  we  can't  go  on.  I  guess  you  see 
that." 

She  read  it  again.  Then  glancing  up  at  the 
messenger,  who  was  plainly  curious  at  the  expres 
sion  on  her  face,  she  frowned  at  him  impatiently. 

"Will  you  wait  downstairs?"  she  said.  "It 
will  take  some  little  time  to  find  the  things  my 
husband  wants." 


254  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

Eid  of  him,  she  began  again  and  read  the  letter 
with  desperate  care.  Yes,  Joe  was  trying  to  be 
fair.  To  have  said  he  was  sorry  for  that  scene 
was  rather  decent  in  him.  "Oh,  yes,  but  he'll 
make  another ! ' '  she  thought.  ' '  Don 't  I  know  how 
he  is — all  tired  and  nervous  and  unstrung?  If 
my  explanation  doesn't  seem  real  he'll  fly  up  and 
leave  me,  and  then  we'll  be  through!"  She 
clenched  the  letter  and  told  herself  that  her  ex 
planation  must  be  real.  It  was  her  one  chance — 
she  must  take  time,  and  get  good  sensible  advice. 
Joe  had  Fanny  Carr  about.  That  was  certain. 
She'd  never  leave  him  alone.  She  was  busily 
bolstering  up  her  side.  And  Ethel  needed  some 
body,  too,  on  her  side — right  behind  her.  Sally 
Crothers — Joe 's  old  friend ! 

She  packed  Joe's  things  and  sent  them  to  him 
with  a  little  letter :  '  '  I  am  glad  you  said  you  were 
sorry,  Joe,  for  the  way  you  acted  was  very  un 
fair.  You  are  quite  right  in  waiting  now — it  is 
better  for  both  of  us  to  cool  down.  But  my  ex 
planation  is  simple  and  real — as  you  will  see.  I 
shall  send  for  you  in  a  few  days.  I  love  you,  dear. 
Hove  you.9' 

After  that,  she  spent  hours  in  anxious  reflection. 

Now  about  Sally  Crothers,  she  thought.  Should 
she  tell  her  the  trouble  she  was  in?  No,  not  at 
once.  New  Yorkers  hate  trouble  and  always  fly 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  255 

from  it — so  she  must  lead  to  it  gradually.  * i  When 
she  comes  I've  got  to  make  her  like  me — very 
much — so  much  she 's  surprised ! "  To  begin  with, 
looks — for  looks  did  count.  That  much  of  what 
Amy  had  said  was  true.  "But  what  I  must  do  is 
not  to  look  like  her.  Sally  Crothers  detested  her, 
and  I've  got  to  overcome  all  that.  I  must  show 
her  I'm  quite  different."  For  a  time  Ethel's 
mind  dwelt  on  details.  It  must  all  be  so  simple, 
yet  not  too  severe.  "For  Sally  is  gay,  I  under 
stand.  What  I  want  is  to  look  halfway  between 
Mrs.  Grewe  and  Emily  Giles.  Black?  No. 
Dark  blue,  with  that  old  Rhinestone  pin.  Wave 
my  hair  ?  No,  that 's  Amy  again ! ' ' 

But  from  such  thoughts  about  her  dress,  or  her 
tea  table,  flowers,  the  lights  in  the  room,  her  mind 
kept  darting  anxiously  off.  All  this  was  nothing! 
What  should  she  say?  "It's  a  woman  of  brains 
who  is  coming  to  call.  Think  of  all  she  knows — 
and  she  earns  her  living — she  has  a  profession 
of  her  own  I  How  in  the  world  shall  I  talk  to  her  ? 
She  thinks  me  like  Amy— there's  Amy  again! 
Oh,  Amy,  Amy,  I  don't  want  to  hate  you!  You 
helped  me  once,  you  were  dear  to  me,  and  you  had 
heaps  and  heaps  of  good  points!  But  please, 
please  stop  coming  up  in  my  life ! 

"Don't  get  into  another  panic,  my  dear.  When 
she  comes  you  must  be  natural.  Your  natural 


256  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

self — that  always  counts.  Don't  try  to  show  off 
what  you  haven't  got.  Show  her  only  what  you 
have.  Make  her  feel  you're  young  and  ready  to 
learn — half  mad  to  learn!  No,  that  won't  do — 
not  mad,  but  keen  for  everything — interested  in 
her  life — in  all  she  does  and  thinks  and  feels." 
She  frowned.  "No,  that's  too  personal.  And 
you  can't  be  personal  in  New  York — not  very — 
they  don't  like  it  here.  Every  one's  too  busy. 
You  must  be  interested  in  things — the  town  in 
general — music — books — people  in  a  general  way. 
*  *  '  Here 's  the  kind  of  a  girl  who  will  grow, '  she 
must  say, '  and  who  is  worth  my  taking  up ! '  But 
will  she?  Now  here's  that  panic  again!  And 
can't  you  see,  you  little  goose,  this  is  just  what 
may  spoil  everything?  If  you're  scared,  you'll 
lose !  You've  got  to  keep  cool  every  minute  she's 
here!  Who  is  this  Sally  anyhow?  What  has  she 
done  that  you  won 't  do  when  you  're  as  old  as  she 
is?  ...  Yes,  but  don't  you  strike  that  note!  No 
woman  likes  to  be  reminded  that  she  is  ten  years 
older  than  any  other  woman  on  earth.  She'll  put 
me  down  as  a  cute  young  thing  who  has  a  danger 
ous  way  with  men.  Dwight  has  praised  me  to  her, 
of  course — but  she'll  put  his  liking  down  to  that 
— the — the — the  sex  side!  I  must  show  her  it 
isn't,  that  I've  got  more,  that  I  don't  want  men 
but  women  now!  But  not  too  hard  or  eager,  you 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  257 

know.  Oh,  I  must  watch  her  all  the  time,  to  see 
if  I'm  getting  any  hold.  And  then,  the  minute  I 
see  my  chance,  I  must  tell  her  my  trouble — no,  my 
big  chance — all  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  doing 
with  Joe,  and  could  do  now — if  only  I  had  her  for 
a  friend ! ' ' 

Such  thinking  was  spasmodic  and  often  discon 
nected.  Thoughts  of  Joe  kept  breaking  in,  and  of 
what  she  should  do  if  she  failed  with  him.  And 
again,  putting  down  with  an  effort  all  such 
thoughts  and  fancies,  she  took  Susette  and  the 
baby  and  went  out  for  a  walk  in  the  Park.  It  was 
one  of  those  balmy  days  that  come  in  winter  now 
and  then,  and  Ethel  sat  down  on  a  bench  for 
a  while. 

But  then  she  looked  around  with  a  start.  Who 
was  that  on  a  bench  nearby?  A  fat  man  with  a 
black  moustache,  his  derby  hat  tipped  over  his 
forehead,  and  his  two  small  piggish  eyes  morosely 
and  narrowly  watching  her.  A  detective — work 
ing  for  Fany  Carr !  Ethel  angrily  rose  and  called 
to  Susette  and  wheeled  the  baby  carriage  away. 
But  just  as  she  passed  the  fat  man,  a  small  fat  boy 
ran  up  to  him. 

6 '  Say,  Pa, ' '  whined  the  urchin.  ' '  Buy  me  a  bag 
of  peanuts." 

"Like  hell  I  will,"  the  fat  man  growled. 

And  Ethel  blushed.     How  absurd  she  had  been ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  reply  to  her  note,  Dwight  had  telephoned  that 
Sally  would  be  there  at  five.  Mrs.  Crothers 
arrived  at  a  quarter  past.  She  was  a  small  alert 
looking  woman  of  thirty-five,  slender,  almost  wiry, 
dark,  with  black  hair  worn  over  her  temples.  Her 
small  mouth  was  strong  and  wilful,  but  she  had 
nice  pleasant  eyes.  She  was  wearing  a  pretty  tan 
hat  and  grey  furs  that  she  put  back  on  her  shoul 
ders  as  she  smiled  and  held  out  her  hand. 
"I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you  at  last,  my  dear." 
4  i  Oh,  thank  you, ' '  said  Ethel  quickly.  And  then, 
because  that  sounded  too  grateful,  she  added, 
"Won't  you  sit  down?"  in  rather  a  stilted  little 
voice.  This  woman  made  her  feel  so  young. 
"Now  don't  act  like  a  school-girl!"  With  an 
appearance  of  lazy  ease  she  turned  and  poked  the 
small  logs  in  the  fire.  "I  do  so  love  wood  fires. 
Don't  you!"  she  said,  in  carefully  easy  tones,  but 
she  did  not  hear  the  answer. 

Mrs.  Crothers  was  wearing  a  trim  street  suit 
of  brown  and  dark  green.  "She  dresses  as  I  do, 
so  that's  all  right,"  thought  Ethel.  "She's  tak 
ing  me  in.  So  much  the  better.  I  '11  do  the  same. ' ' 
And  as  they  talked,  she  kept  throwing  glances  at 

258 


HIS   SECOND    WIFE  259 

the  dark  face,  rather  narrow,  the  small  and  rather 
mischievous  mouth,  and  the  grey  eyes  which  looked 
as  though  they  could  be  so  very  good-humoured 
and  friendly.  But  with  a  little  pang  of  dismay 
Ethel  saw  that  these  eyes  were  preoccupied  and 
only  half  attending.  "She  has  a  hundred  things 
on  her  mind,  and  she's  asking,  'Now  let's  try  to 
see  if  there's  really  anything  here  worth  while.'  " 
The  preliminaries  were  already  over.  That  part 
at  least  had  gone  smoothly  enough.  ' i  We  're  off ! " 
thought  Ethel  excitedly. 

"How  will  you  have  your  tea?"  she  asked. 

"Clear  with  lemon." 

"One  lump  or  two  I" 

"Three  or  four." 

"Oh,  how  funny,"  Ethel  laughed.  And  then 
she  reddened.  "You  little  goose,"  she  exclaimed 
to  herself, ' '  why  did  you  say, '  How  funny '  ? "  She 
poured  the  tea  with  a  trembling  hand  and  prof 
fered  it  with  a  plate  of  cakes  and  small  toasted 
crumpets,  dainties  she  had  purchased  with  care 
at  a  smart  little  shop  in  the  neighbourhood.  And 
meanwhile  she  was  answering  the  questions,  pleas 
ant  but  searching,  though  thrown  out  in  a  casual 
voice.  -* 

"Yes,  my  home  was  in  Ohio.  Such  a  dear  old 
town,"  she  said.  But  the  next  moment  she  bit 
her  lips,  for  she  had  come  so  near  to  adding,  "I 


260  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

wish  I  were  back  this  very  minute !"  What  was 
her  visitor  saying?  She  frowned  and  leaned  for 
ward  attentively.  Something  about  a  small  town 
in  Vermont  and  the  funny  local  politics  there. 
"Where  is  she  leading  by  that  remark ?"  Oh, 
yes,  suffrage !  That  was  all  right ! 

"Yes,  indeed,"  declared  Ethel  eagerly,  "I'm 
for  suffrage  heart  and  soul!  I  marched  in  the 
parade  last  Fall !  Wasn  't  it  glorious  ?  Were  you 
there?" 

"Yes,  I  marched— " 

"With  the  gardeners?"  Ethel  blushed  again. 

"Landscape,  I  mean!"    And  her  visitor  smiled. 

"Yes,  with  the  gardeners,"  she  said.     "There 

were  only  four  of  us,  but  we  felt  like  the  Four 

Hundred."    Ethel  giggled  excitedly. 

"Wasn't  it  glorious?"  she  exclaimed.     "You 

ninny!"   she   thought.     "You   said   that   once!" 

And  she  hastened  to  add,  "And  isn't  it  perfectly 

silly  for  men  to  try  to  keep  us  from  marching?" 

"You  mean  your  husband  doesn't  approve?" 

"Approve!"  Ethel  echoed  with  a  sniff.     "I'd 

like  to  see  him  disapprove.    I  have  him  in  fair 

control,  I  think."    And  she  knitted  her  brows  in 

an  eager  way,  for  this  was  a  chance  to  tell  how 

she  had  done  it. 

"How  long  have  you  been  married?"  her  visitor 
was  asking. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  261 

"Let  me  see.  Four  years?  No,  two,"  she  re 
plied,  with  a  quick  smile.  ' i  Time  does  so  fly  along 
in  this  town ! ' ' 

"It  does  indeed.  It  seems  hardly  any  time  at 
all  since  the  days  when  your  husband  and  I  were 
friends." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  has  often  told  me  about  you!" 
And  Ethel  shot  a  swift  anxious  look.  "I  know 
you  don't  like  him,"  she  wanted  to  add.  "-But  if 
you'll  only  give  me  a  chance  I'll  show  you  what 
I  have  made  of  this  man — or  was  making,  at  least, 
till  all  of  a  sudden  right  out  of  the  clouds  there 
dropped  a  fat  detective!"  She  laughed  at  the 
thought  and  then  grew  rigid.  How  silly  and 
pointless  to  laugh  like  that!  Mrs.  Crothers  was 
telling  now  of  the  old  group  down  about  Wash 
ington  Square,  and  Ethel  was  listening  hungrily. 

"What  gorgeous  times  you  must  have  had," 
she  exclaimed,  "in  those  old  days!"  The  next 
moment  she  turned  crimson.  "I've  said  it  now. 
'Old'!  I  knew  I  should!"  She  caught  Sally's 
good-natured  smile  and  felt  again  like  a  mere 
child. 

From  this  moment  on  she  would  take  care !  She 
avoided  personal  topics,  and  growing  grave  and 
dignified  she  turned  the  conversation  from  Joe  to 
music,  concerts,  the  opera,  "Salome,"  "Louise." 
She  carefully  showed  she  was  up  to  date,  not  only 


262  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

in  music  but  in  other  things,  books  she  had  dis 
cussed  years  ago  in  the  club  of  the  little  history 
"prof,"  and  others  she  had  been  reading  since — 
Montessori,  "Jean  Christophe."  Hiding  her 
tense  anxiety  under  a  manner  smooth  as  oil,  she 
talked  politely  on  and  on,  and  she  felt  she  was 
doing  better  now.  So  much  better!  No  more 
stupid  breaks  or  girlish  gush,  but  a  modern  intelli 
gent  woman  of  parts.  And  a  glow  of  hope  rose  in 
her  breast.  A  little  more  of  this,  she  thought, 
and  she  would  be  ready  to  break  off,  and  with  a 
sudden  appealing  smile  take  her  new  friend  into 
her  confidence,  tell  of  her  trouble  and  ask  for  ad 
vice. 

But  the  smile  came  from  her  visitor.  Mrs. 
Crothers  had  risen  and  was  holding  out  her  hand. 
And  as  Ethel  stared  in  dismay  at  that  smile,  which 
displayed  such  an  easy  indifference  to  her  and  all 
her  view  of  life,  her  only  woman  friend  in  New 
York  said, 

"I'm  so  sorry  I've  got  to  run.  I  hope  you'll 
come  and  see  me." 

From  the  door  in  the  hallway  Ethel  came  back 
in  a  sort  of  a  daze — till  her  eye  lit  on  the  blue  china 
clock  on  the  mantel. 

"Seventeen  minutes!"  she  exclaimed.  And 
then  after  one  quick  look  around,  she  flung  herself 
on  the  sofa  in  tears.  ' i  I  bored  her !  How  I  bored 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  263 

her!  How  stupid  I  was,  and  comic— a  child! 
And  then  solemn— too  solemn— all  music  and  art 
—and  education  and— how  in  the  world  do  I  know 
what  I  said?  Or  care!  I  hate  the  woman!  I 
hate  them  all!  Seventeen  minutes!  Isn't  that 
just  like  New  York  1" 

But  from  this  little  storm  she  soon  emerged. 
Grimly  sitting  up  on  the  sofa,  she  reached  out  a 
hand  icy  cold,  took  the  tea-pot  and  poured  out  a 
cup.  It  was  strong  now,  thank  Heaven!  And 
frowning  gravely  into  space,  Ethel  sat  and  drank 
her  tea. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

the  one  thing, "  she  told  herself,  "is 
to  keep  your  nerve  and  be  sensible.  For 
this  may  decide  your  whole  life,  you  know.  .  .  . 
All  right,  what  next  ?  What 's  to  be  done  1 

"I  hate  Sally  Crothers,"  she  began,  "but  I  may 
go  to  see  her,  nevertheless.  She  asked  me  to. 
Didn't  mean  it,  of  course,  she  was  plainly  bored! 
No,  I  won't  do  it!  I  loathe  the  woman!  .  .  .  All 
right,  my  dear,  but  who  else  can  you  go  to?  Mrs. 
Grewe?  She's  doubtless  at  home — but  there  may 
be  that  detestable  hat,  tall,  rich  and  shiny,  in  her 
hall.  It  looked  as  though  it  owned  her  soul !  No, 
thanks — not  yet — not  for  me!  ...  Though  she 
told  me  you  soon  get  used  to  it.  ... 

"Well,  how  about  going  back  to  Ohio,  to  the 
little  history  prof,  and  hating  all  men — one  and 
all?  That  sounds  exceedingly  tempting!  ...  I 
won't  do  it,  though — because  if  I  do,  it  means  I'm 
beaten  here — and  I'd  lose  Susette  and  the  baby! 
.  .  .  Quiet,  now.  .  .  .  And  then  there's  Dwight. 
He  will  probably  call  up  soon  and  ask  how  Sally 
and  I  got  on.  I  could  go  to  him  this  very  night ! 
How  perfectly  disgusting !  And  yet  it 's  just  what 

264 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  265 

Joe  deserves !  What  right  had  he  to  believe  that 
of  me?  ...  Now  please  keep  cool.  If  I  go  to 
Dwight  I  become  exactly  like  Mrs.  Grewe — and 
I  'd  have  to  give  up  the  children. 

"No,  it's  back  to  Joe  on  my  knees,  to  beg  him  to 
let  me  stay  right  here.  And  I'll  succeed — I  know 
I  will!  But  won't  I  be  under  Fanny's  thumb? 
And  won't  I  take  back  Amy's  friends?  Like  a 
good  repentant  scared  little  girl!  And  eat  their 
rich  meals  and  chatter  as  they  do,  and  dance  and 
grow  old — and  push  Joe  on  to  make  more  money 
— more  and  more — so  that  I  can  get  fat  and  soft 
— like  the  rest  of  these  cats !" 

Again  her  face  was  quivering.  But  with  an  ef 
fort  controlling  herself,  she  went  into  the  nursery. 
And  on  the  floor  with  her  wee  son,  slowly  rolling 
a  big  red  ball  back  and  forth  to  each  other,  soon 
again  she  had  grown  quiet,  almost  like  her  nat 
ural  self.  She  took  supper  alone,  and  then  read  a 
novel,  page  after  page,  without  comprehending. 
An  hour  later  she  went  to  bed,  and  there  lay  lis 
tening  to  the  town — to  its  numberless  voices,  dis 
tinct  and  confused,  from  windows  close  by  and 
from  the  street,  and  from  other  streets  by  hun 
dreds  and  from  a  million  other  homes,  and  from 
the  two  rivers  and  the  sea — voices  blurred  and 
fused  in  one.  And  its  tone,  to  Ethel's  ears,  was 
one  of  utter  indifference — good-humoured  enough 


266  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

but  rather  bored  with  ' '  young  things ' '  weeping  on 
its  breast. 

"Be  Mrs.  Grewe,  if  you  like,"  it  said,  "or  Sally 
Crothers  or  Fanny  Carr.  Or  go  back  home  to 
your  history  prof.  Each  one  of  these  things  has 
been  done  before  by  so  many  thousands  just  like 
you.  Nobody  cares.  You  have  no  neighbours. 
Do  exactly  as  you  like." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said.  "I  choose 
to  be  Sally  Crothers  first.  And  if  that  fails — well, 
between  Fanny  Carr  and  Mrs.  Grewe  there  isn't 
much  choice.  Do  you  think  so  ? " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  city.  And  it  yawned.  But 
Ethel  lay  there  thinking. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  spoke  presently.  "Sorry  to 
annoy  you  again — but  is  there  any  God  about?" 

"None,"  came  the  sleepy  answer.  "Do  as  you 
like,  I  tell  you." 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  sat  up  in  bed. 

"Now  I've  been  getting  morbid  again!  For 
goodness'  sake  let's  try  to  be  healthy  and  clear 
about  this!" 

And  she  tried  to  be.  But  for  some  time  she 
made  little  headway.  It  was  easy  to  grimly  shut 
her  teeth  and  resolve,  "I've  got  to  do  this  by  my 
self,  talk  to  Joe  and  simply  make  him  believe  me !" 
But  as  soon  as  she  came  to  the  details  of  what  she 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  267 

should  say  to  her  husband,  his  face  as  she  had  seen 
it  last — worn  and  nervous,  overwrought — kept 
rising  up  before  her.  Could  she  convince  him? 
' l  It 's  my  last  chance ! "  If  only  she  knew  how  to 
go  about  it!  She  wanted  to  be  heroic  and  face 
this  crisis  all  alone — but  she  had  been  alone  so 
much.  Tonight  it  seemed  to  Ethel  as  though  she 
had  struggled  alone  for  years.  Was  it  all  worth 
while,  she  asked  herself.  She  could  feel  her  cour 
age  ooze  again.  Her  thinking  grew  vague  and 
uneven.  .  .  .  And  more  and  more  the  picture  rose 
of  the  woman  friend  she  had  counted  on  having — 
Sally  Crothers,  who  was  so  clever,  an  older  woman 
who  knew  New  York,  knew  what  to  do  in  such 
tangles  as  this,  knew  Joe,  had  known  him  back  in 
that  past  which  Ethel  was  trying  to  raise  again. 
And  it  was  exasperating!  "If  I  could  only  get  at 
her!"  she  thought. 

Carefully,  almost  word  by  word,  she  went  over 
in  her  mind  her  talk  with  Mrs.  Crothers  that  day, 
in  order  to  find  out  her  mistakes. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  she  said  at  the 
end.  "I  think  in  the  first  part  you  did  pretty 
well.  You  made  breaks  and  were  clumsy,  and 
she  was  amused — but  she  rather  liked  you,  never 
theless.  At  least  you  were  a  novelty.  But  then 
you  went  and  spoiled  it  all  by  making  solemn  fool 
remarks  about  the  world  in  general.  And  there- 


268  HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

upon  Sally  arose  and  went.  ...  All  right,  next 
time  I'll  be  different.  I  won't  be  solemn,  nor 
afraid  of  saying  anything  incorrect.  In  fact  I'll 
revel  in  it!  She  asked  me  to  come  and  see  her, 
in  a  tone  which  added,  < Don't.'  But  I'll  be  incor 
rect  right  there.  I  will  go  to  see  her;  and  what's 
more,  I'll  go  tomorrow  afternoon!  And  I  won't 
call  up  first,  for  she'd  say  she  was  out.  I'll  get 
into  her  house  and  get  her  downstairs— and  I'll 
break  right  through  all  smoothnesses  and  tell  her 
exactly  how  and  why  I've  got  to  have  a  woman 
friend !  I  '11  give  you  the  chance  of  your  life,  Sally 
Crothers,  to  throw  out  the  life-line ! 

"If  you  don't  I'll — just  swim  about  for  awhile. 
No  use  in  thinking  of  that,  though. " 

And  suddenly  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MRS.  CROTHERS  lived  in  a  small  brick 
house  on  a  side  street  close  to  Washington 
Square.  As  Ethel  looked  out  from  her  automo 
bile,  how  dear  and  homey  it  appeared,  with  such  a 
quiet  friendly  face.  l '  Now  for  the  plunge. ' '  She 
went  up  the  low  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  Thank 
Heaven  it  was  a  rainy  day,  for  when  the  maid  came 
Ethel  went  right  in,  and  the  rain  made  that  seem 
natural.  At  least  no  door  had  been  shut  in  her 
face.  She  wanted  to  get  inside  this  house ! 

"Is  Mrs.  Crothers  at  home!"  she  asked.  The 
maid  was  not  sure.  Ethel  gave  her  a  card  and 
was  shown  into  a  long  cosy  room  with  an  old- 
fashioned  air,  where  a  small  coal  fire  looked  half 
asleep.  She  began  to  look  around  her.  The  walls 
were  lined  with  book-shelves,  with  only  a  picture 
here  and  there.  No  wall-paper.  "How  funny." 
She  frowned  and  added,  "But  it's  nice."  There 
was  but  little  furniture,  and  plenty  of  room  to 
move  about.  "What  a  love  of  a  mirror."  It  was 
of  gilt,  and  it  reached  from  floor  to  ceiling  between 
the  two  front  windows.  Gravely  she  looked  at 
herself  in  the  glass.  "Oh,  I'm  not  very  excited." 

The  maid  reappeared,  and  said,  "Mrs.  Crothers 

269 


270  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

asks  you  to  excuse  her.  She's  sick  with  a  head 
ache  this  afternoon. " 

<  '  Oh,  what  a  lie  I "  thought  Ethel.  She  stood  for 
a  moment  irresolute,  her  heart  in  her  mouth.  "I 
will,  though!"  she  decided,  and  took  out  another 
card.  "Then  take  her  this  little  note,"  she  said. 
And  she  wrote :  "I  know  I  am  being  quite  rude — 
but  if  the  headache  is  not  too  severe  will  you  see 
me  just  for  a  little  while?  I  would  not  bother 
you — honestly — but  it  is  something  so  important 
— and  it  must  be  settled  today."  It  took  two  of 
her  cards,  and  even  then  it  was  horribly  crowded 
and  hard  to  read.  "Never  mind,"  she  thought. 
"That's  as  far  as  I'll  go.  If  she  can't  read  that 
I'm  done  for!" 

The  maid  had  taken  the  message  upstairs. 

* l  Now  I  Ve  done  it,  I  Ve  gone  too  far.  I  'm  done 
for — oh,  I'm  done  for!  Well,  look  about  you, 
Ethel,  my  love — it's  the  last  look  you'll  ever  get 
at  this  room !  How  dear  it  is,  what  taste,  what  a 
home.  Books,  pictures,  a  piano  of  course — and 
the  very  air  is  full  of  the  things  that  have  been 
said  here  after  dinner,  over  coffee  and  cigarettes, 
by  all  the  people  you  want  to  know.  Not  rich  nor 
' smart'  like  Newport — just  people  with  minds  and 
hearts  alive  to  the  big  things  that  really  count, 
the  beautiful  things!  .  .  .  Good-bye,  my  dears — 
you  're  not  very  kind. ' ' 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  271 

1 '  She  '11  be  down  in  a  moment, ' '  said  the  maid. 

*  *  Thank  you ! ' '  Ethel  had  wheeled  with  a  start ; 
and  again  left  alone,  she  stood  without  moving. 
"Well,  here  you  are — you've  got  your  chance! 
And  how  do  you  feel!  Plain  panicky!  Never 
mind,  that's  just  what  will  catch  her  attention! 
Be  panicky!  Oh,  I  am — I  am!"  And  her  cour 
age  oozed  so  rapidly  that  when  her  hostess  came 
into  the  room,  and  with  a  smile  that  was  rather 
strained,  said  "I  am  so  glad  to  see  you — "  the 
girl  who  confronted  her  only  stared,  and  suddenly 
shivered  a  little.  Then  she  forced  a  smile  and 
said,  "How  silly  of  me  to  shiver  like  that." 

"Come  here  by  the  fire  and  sit  down."  Mrs. 
Crothers'  voice  was  suddenly  kind.  "Now  tell 
me  how  I  can  help  you,"  she  said. 

"Thank  you.  Why,  it's  simply  this.  I've  had 
trouble  with  Joe,  my  husband — just  lately — in  the 
last  few  days.  And  the  trouble  is  so  serious  that 
— it's  my  whole  life — one  way  or  the  other.  At 
least  it — certainly  feels  so !  And  I  have  no  women 
friends  I  can  go  to.  They're  all  his — hers,  I 
mean. ' ' 

"Hers?" 

"Yes.  My  sister's.  She  is  dead — but  very 
much  alive  at  times — through  the  friends  she  left 
behind  her.  I've  been  fighting  them  all  my  life, 
it  seems — ever  since  I  married  Joe ! ' ' 


272  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"Why  were  you  fighting  them!"  Ethel 
frowned : 

"Because  they — well,  they  were  all  just  fat — 
in  body  and  soul — the  women,  I  mean — and  the 
men  were  just  making  money  for  food  and  things 
to  keep  them  so.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean — 
that  kind  of  New  Yorker  1 ' ' 

"I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Crothers.  "Was  that  the 
cause  of  your  trouble  with  Joe?" 

"Partly — yes.  You  see  when  I  tried  to  shake 
them  off,  they  wouldn't  be  shaken — they  hung  on 
— because  Joe  was  growing  rich  all  of  a  sudden. 
Oh,  I  got  pretty  desperate!  But  then  I  learned 
of  other  friends  that  Joe  had  had  here  long  ago — 
before  he  married  ~ker,  you  know.  And  I  hunted 
for  them — one  by  one.  I  could  feel  they  were  just 
what  he  needed,  you  see.  I  mean  that  back  among 
such  friends  I  hoped  he'd  stop  just  making  money 
and  get  to  work — on  things  he  had  dreamed  of! 
You  understand?" 

"I  think  so — but  not  fully.  Go  on  in  your  own 
way,  my  dear.  Don't  try  to  think.  Keep  talk 
ing." 

"Thank  you.  I  was  in  love  with  him.  There 
was  nobody  else,  man,  woman  or  child — except 
Susette.  She  was  Amy's  little  girl.  You  see, 
Mrs.  Crothers,  when  Amy  died  I  was  there — I 
had  just  come  to  town.  So  I  stayed  with  Joe  to 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  273 

look  after  Susette.  Then  later  on  I  began  to  feel 
that  he  was  beginning  to  care  for  me.  And  I 
didn't  like  that — on  Amy's  account,  for  I  wor 
shipped  her  then.  So  I  broke  away  and  took 
a  job.  .  .  .  Oh,  what  in  the  w^orld  am  I  getting 
at?" 

" Don't  try  to  think.  Just  tell  me.  You  took 
a  job.  What  was  it?" 

Ethel  told  of  Greesheimer,  and  then  of  coming 
back  to  Joe,  of  his  poverty  and  of  her  nursing  Su 
sette,  of  dreaming  of  children,  of  falling  in  love, 
of  marriage  and  the  birth  of  her  boy. 

"But  all  the  time  Amy  had  been  there.  Do  you 
understand?  Like  a  spirit,  I  mean !  She  had  Joe 
first !  She  had  shaped  him ! ' ' 

"Yes—" 

"And  so  when  he  loved  me  even  more,  T  do  be 
lieve,  than  he  ever  loved  her — still  he  did  the  thing 
she  would  have  wanted.  Amy  had  taught  him 
to  show  his  love  by  loading  money  on  his  wife. 
And  that  was  what  started  everything  wrong. 
For  he  got  rich — for  my  sake — and  the  money 
brought  Amy's  friends  back  in  a  horde !  Oh,  now 
I'm  repeating!  I've  said  all  that — " 

"Please  say  it  again!    You're  doing  so  well!" 

Ethel  told  about  Fanny  and  the  rest.  "I  tried 
to  like  them — honestly!  But  I  simply  couldn't!" 
she  cried. 


274  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

' l  Why  couldn  't  you  ?  Tell  me  plainly  just  what 
it  was  you  wanted. ' ' 

' '  What  I  wanted  ?  Plainly  I  Oh,  dear— I  can 't 
exactly — " 

* '  What  kind  of  people ! ' ' 

Ethel  frowned. 

* ' Not  just  eaters ! ' '  she  exclaimed.  * ' 1  wanted 
men  and  women  who — well,  who  were  seeing  some 
thing  big — and  beautiful  and  real  in  life!  Life 
is  so  hard  and  queer  in  this  town — so  awfully 
crowded  and  mixed  up — and  empty,  somehow. 
You  know  how  I  mean?  But  they  see  something 
in  it  all.  Not  clearly — it's  way  off,  you  know. 
And  they're  busy  of  course,  and  by  no  means 
saints.  They  have  their  worries  and  their  faults 
and  pettiness — they're  human,  too,  But  they're 
looking  for  something  really  worth  while !  Oh,  I 
can't  express  it — I  really  can't!" 

6 1  Oh,  yes  you  can,  you  've  done  quite  well, ' '  said 
Mrs.  Crothers  steadily.  "  And  now  to  narrow  this 
down  to  Joe,  you  wanted  him  to  be  like  that — in 
his  work  and  so  in  his  life  with  you.  Was  that 
it?" 

"Yes!  And  he  used  to  be!  You  must  know 
that!" 

"Yes — I  knew  that.  Your  husband  and  I  were 
once  very  good  friends." 

"That's  it,  and  I  guessed  it!"  Ethel  cried.    "I 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  275 

was  making  wild  guesses  in  the  dark.  And  at  last 
I  put  my  finger  on  his  partner,  and  we  had  a  talk. 
It  was  a  talk,  a  hard  one — but  I  made  him  believe 
me  in  the  end.  And  he  told  me  a  little  about  you 
— and  I  wanted  to  meet  you,  oh,  so  much!  But 
he  seemed  to  be  out  of  touch  with  you,  so  he  took 
me  to  Mr.  Dwight  instead.  I  had  always  wanted 
to  sing,  you  know — and  the  rest  of  it — well,  Mr. 
Dwight  must  have  told  you." 

"Only  a  little,"  was  the  reply.  "I  don't  yet 
fully  understand.  How  did  all  this  bring  trouble 
with  Joe?  It's  something  serious,  you  said — " 

* l  It 's  something  very  nasty. ' '  And  Ethel  began 
telling  of  Fanny's  revelations.  In  the  midst  of 
it  the  door-bell  rang. 

"One  moment."  And  Sally  went  into  the  hall. 
"Whoever  it  is,  say  I've  a  headache,"  Ethel  heard 
her  tell  the  maid.  "The  same  old  headache," 
Sally  remarked  as  she  grimly  pulled  the  portieres. 
They  waited  in  a  tense  little  silence  till  the  visitor 
had  gone.  "And  Alice,"  Sally  called  to  the  maid. 
"If  any  one  else  comes,  say  I'm  out."  She 
turned  back  to  Ethel,  smiling : 

"Suppose  you  stay  to  supper.  I'll  telephone 
my  husband  to  dine  at  his  club — and  we  '11  go  right 
on  with  this  talk  of  ours.  We'll  go  on,"  she 
added  determinedly,  "until  we  have  Joe  so  in  our 
toils  that  he'll  be  yours  so  long  as  he  lives." 


276  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

Ethel  suddenly  sniffed  and  swallowed  hard,  and 
said,  "Oh,  what  a  dear  you  are  to  me!" 

Sally  looked  at  her  queerly. 

"This  is  to  be  a  talk  without  tears,  but  much 
good  sensible  planning,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
blame  you  a  bit  for  having  been  frightened — 
you've  been  through  an  ugly  time.  But  I  think 
with  a  little  common  sense — " 

"I  know,"  said  Ethel,  "that's  just  what  I  need. 
And  that  is  why  I  came  to  you. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  Sally  smiled  again.  "Now  go 
on  about  Mrs.  Carr." 

The  talk  went  on,  with  interruptions  for  supper 
and  Sally's  two  small  children,  far  into  the  eve 
ning.  And  Mrs.  Crothers  did  her  share — filling  in 
for  Ethel  the  picture  of  Joe's  old  life,  his  work 
and  dreams,  and  his  first  marriage.  She  told  of 
several  meetings  with  Amy.  And  all  the  time  she 
kept  watching,  probing  into  this  young  second 
wife,  skilfully  raising  Ethel's  hopes,  her  vivid 
freshness  and  her  youth,  her  hunger  for  a  life  she 
saw  only  in  dazzling  glimpses. 

"Do  you  want  my  advice  about  meeting  Joe? 
Then  here  it  is,"  she  said  at  the  end.  "I  needn't 
say  don't  go  on  your  knees — " 

"You  needn't!" 

"I  thought  so — you're  not  that  kind.  And  I 
wouldn't  explain  too  much  about  Dwight,  and 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  277 

those  little  things  you  did  with  him.  Make  Joe 
take  you  on  faith  or  not  at  all.  Have  a  long  talk 
and  make  him  listen — don't  give  him  a  chance  to 
say  a  word.  Talk  right  on  and  give  him  the  pic 
ture  of  his  two  wives,  and  then  let  him  choose — 
between  letting  you  go,  while  he  takes  her  friends, 
or  dropping  them  and  keeping  you  and  finding 
what  he  had  before.  I  can  help  you  in  that — but 
before  I  do,  I  think  you've  got  to  lay  a  ghost. 
She's  in  the  way  of  everything.  She  has  been 
in  your  home  long  enough.  And  her  strength  is 
the  fact  that  you  and  Joe  never  mention  her  name 
to  each  other.  I  wonder  if  you  realize  how  great 
a  danger  that  has  been.  At  any  rate  I'm  very 
sure  that  you  must  break  the  silence  now.  It  has 
been  like  a  spell  between  you. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  next  afternoon  she  sat  waiting  for  Joe. 
She  had  come  home  the  night  before  feeling 
so  strong  and  sure  of  her  course.  But  beginning 
at  the  moment  when  she  came  into  the  empty 
apartment,  subtly  and  by  slow  degrees  again  her 
home  had  cast  its  spell,  as  though  the  rooms  were 
haunted.  "I've  got  to  lay  the  ghost, "  she 
thought.  She  had  telephoned  to  Joe  to  come,  and 
he  had  replied  abruptly,  "All  right,  I'll  be  there 
about  four  o  'clock. ' '  It  was  just  that  now.  Ethel 
poked  the  logs  in  the  fireplace  until  there  was  a 
cheerful  blaze.  As  she  straightened  up  she  caught 
sight  of  her  face  in  the  mirror  over  the  mantel. 
Even  in  the  firelight  how  gaunt  and  strained  it 
looked  to  her. 

"Not  very  attractive,"  she  grimly  thought. 
"This  has  got  to  be  done  by  brains,  my  dear." 

In  a  moment  she  heard  Joe's  key  in  the  door. 
She  heard  him  taking  off  his  coat  and  then  coming 
slowly  into  the  room.  With  an  effort  she  turned 
and  looked  at  him.  His  face  appeared  even  more 
tense  and  grey  than  it  had  two  days  before;  the 
nerves  seemed  quivering  under  the  skin.  And  she 
felt  a  pang  of  pity.  "He  wasn't  to  blame  for  the 

278 


HIS    SECOND    WIFE  279 

way  he  acted,  it  was  his  wretched  nerves,"  she 
thought.  "He'll  have  a  break-down  after  this." 

"Well,  Ethel !" 

*  *  Oh,  Joe,  I  'm  so  glad  you  're  here. ' '  All  at  once 
she  felt  herself  change.  She  had  meant  to  be  so 
firm  with  him;  but  now,  after  one  quick  anxious 
look,  in  a  low  eager  voice  she  said,  l i  I  'm  not  going 
to  talk  much  of  myself.  It  won't  do  any  good — 
I'm  sure  it  won't.  I  love  you,  Joe,  and  I  can  see 
you  still  love  me.  We  need  each  other.  And  if 
we  can  just  be  sensible  now — and  you  can  only  be 
lieve  in  me — " 

"God  knows  I  want  to,  Ethel!"  His  tone  was 
low,  but  so  sharp  and  tense  that  she  drew  suddenly 
closer.  He  turned  from  her  and  sank  into  a  chair, 
with  his  hands  for  a  moment  pressed  to  his  eyes. 
"  I  'm  sick  of  this — I  'm  not  myself.  Maybe  I  acted 
like  a  fool.  .  .  .  Some  of  that  stuff  from  Fanny 
Carr  doesn't  hold  together — it's  too  thin."  He 
looked  up  at  her.  "But  some  of  it  does.  And 
what  you'll  have  to  clear  up  now  is  why  you  never 
let  me  know. ' ' 

"The  reason  I  didn't,"  she  answered  quickly, 
"goes  way  back  into  the  past.  And  it's  not  only 
about  you  and  me — it's  about — about  somebody 
else."  She  stopped  and  her  throat  contracted. 
She  set  her  teeth.  "We  must  talk  about  Amy  for 
a  while." 


280  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

There !  At  last  she  had  brought  it  out !  And 
she  had  seen  her  husband  flinch.  For  a  moment 
both  were  silent. 

"Why?"  he  asked.    She  swallowed  hard. 

"Because  we  never  have  before.  We've — gone 
two  years  without  speaking  her  name.  I  had  no 
idea  how  bad  that  might  be."  She  broke  off,  for 
her  voice  was  trembling  so.  "I  don't  know  how 
much  you've  learned  in  that  time — about  Amy,  I 
mean — but  I've  learned  a  lot,  and — I  think  I'd 
better  tell  you.  I  must,  you  see,  or  you  won't 
understand  what  I've  been  doing  lately.  I 
couldn't  have  explained  before,  without  speaking 
of  her — and  I  didn't  do  that.  But  I  should  have, 
Joe,  and  I  will  now — if  only  you'll  be  patient  and 
let  me  do  the  talking." 

"Well?" 

"Some  of  it  goes  so  very  far  back."  She 
leaned  forward  with  a  queer  little  smile:  "Amy 
was  good  to  me  when  I  came — and  I  had  always 
worshipped  her — I  thought  she  was  nearly  every 
thing.  She  made  me  feel  how  she — loved  you,  Joe 
— she  had  ambition,  urged  you  on.  But — oh,  I've 
got  to  try  to  be  clear.  What  kind  of  ambition  was 
it,  Joe?  What  did  you  have  before  you  met  her? 
How  did  you  used  to  look  at  your  work?  You 
were  coming  up  to  do  big  things — but  you  man  ' 
her  and  your  work  all  changed.  You  threw  c  ' 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  281 

ideals  to  make  money  for  her.  And  when  your 
partner  tried  to  hold  you,  Amy  tried  to  break  up 
the  firm.  Didn't  she?  Don't  you  remember?" 
She  waited,  but  he  did  not  speak.  "How  hard  it 
is  for  him, ' '  she  thought, ' 9  to  admit  a  thing  against 
her.  This  won't  be  easy."  But  she  felt  a  little 
thrill  of  pride  in  him. 

"So  Bill  has  been  talking,  has  he,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  made  him."  She  went  on.  "Amy  set 
herself  against  him — and  against  all  your  other 
old  friends.  Not  at  first — I  want  to  be  fair  to 
her,  Joe — don't  think  I'm  blaming  just  her  for 
all  this.  I'm  sure  that  at  first  she  was  different 
— she  wanted  your  friends  to  take  her  in.  Re 
member  those  dinners  you  took  her  to,  and  that 
week-end  party  up  in  Vermont?" 

Joe  looked  at  her  sharply : 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"Sally  Crothers,"  said  Ethel.  "She  was 
there." 

"Sally  Crothers?  You  know  her?"  he  de 
manded.  She  smiled  at  the  startled  look  on  his 
face. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  replied  "You  see  I've  been 
hunting  so  hard  for  you,  Joe,  among  those  friends 
you  used  to  have.  And  I  did  it  without  ever  let 
ting  you  know.  Dwight,  too — he  was  only  one  of 
them."  She  frowned,  and  added  briskly,  "Just 


282  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

incidental,  so  to  speak.  But  I  don't  care  to  talk 
of  him  now — I'm  speaking  only  of  Amy.  And 
from  what  Sally  Crothers  has  told  me,  poor  Amy 
must  have  had  some  hard  times.  They  weren't 
fair  to  her.  If  they'd  given  her  time  and  a  real 
chance,  everything  might  have  been  different. 
But  they  didn't,  they  turned  her  down.  And  feel 
ing  hurt  and  angry — and  feeling  besides  how  she  'd 
have  to  grow — in  her  mind,  I  mean,  and  her  inter 
ests,  to  take  any  place  among  people  like  that — I 
think  she  hesitated.  You  might  have  helped  her 
then,  perhaps — but  you  didn't — and  Amy  was  lazy, 
Joe — that  had  always  been  a  part  of  her.  So  she 
wouldn't  make  the  effort.  Instead  of  coming  up 
to  you,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  pull  you  down!" 

"That  isn't  true!"  he  said  harshly.  "And  if 
you've  been  taking  for  God's  own  truth  what  Sally 
Crothers  told  you — " 

"Stop!  Please!"  cried  Ethel  eagerly.  "I 
didn't  mean  what  I  said  just  then — I  put  it  badly 
— oh,  so  wrong!  She  didn't  say,  'I'll  pull  him 
down.'  She  told  herself  your  friends  were  snobs ! 
And  she  said,  'I  have  friends  who  are  human,  and 
they're  quite  good  enough  for  me!'  So  she  went 
on  with  Fanny  Carr.  And  others  came,  the  circle 
grew.  And  it  was  all  done  day  by  day,  and  week 
by  week.  It  happened — and  you  never  knew. 
Nor  did  she.  It  was  all  so  natural.  But  within 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  283 

a  year  she  was  going  with  people,  and  so  were  you, 
who  cared  for  nothing  you  had  wanted — women 
with  no  growth  at  all.  They  were  all — oh,  so 
common,  Joe ! ' ' 

"That's  a  bit  snobbish,  isn't  it?" 

"You  can  call  it  what  you  like !  But  I  say  you 
can  find  them  all  over  town — richer  and  poorer, 
better  and  worse — women  who  want  only  common 
things — just  clothes  and  food  and  what  they  call 
love — with  not  a  wish  that  I  can  see  except  for 
money  to  live  like  that!  I'm  no  prig,  Joe!  I 
want  pretty  clothes,  and  I  want  to  be  gay  and 
have  nice  things.  But  you  can  get  all  I  want 
of  that  and  still  get  what  is  so  much  more !"  Her 
voice  dropped;  she  hurried  eagerly  on:  "Real 
work  you  love  and  which  makes  you  grow,  and 
friends  that  keep  you  growing !  Ideas  and  things 
to  know  about — and  beauty,  music,  pictures — the 
opera — books  and  people,  plays — and  buildings! 
The  new  library — the  station — the — the  tower 
down  on  Madison  Square!  Your  work,  Joe! 
And  your  old  friends!  Men  and  women  who 
really  think  and  feel — not  just  alive  in  their 
bodies!  I  don't  know  much  about  all  that.  Do 
you,  these  days?  Mighty  little!  Because  she 
kept  you  away  from  it ! " 

"No!"  But  she  caught  the  uncertain  look  in 
his  eyes. 


284  HIS  SECOND  WIFE 

"Are  you  so  sure?  Why  didn't  she  ever  go  to 
Paris?  She  must  have  been  dying  to  go  there 
and  shop,  but  she  never  let  you  take  her  there. 
She  was  afraid  to  let  you  go  near  it  again — the 
Beaux  Arts  work,  the  student  life — afraid  that 
you'd  get  thinking!  So  she  kept  you  here  and 
away  from  your  friends.  She  even  kept  Crothers 
out  of  your  firm.  You  partner  fought  her  hard 
on  that — and  you  held  out — until  one  day  Crothers 
came  to  your  office  and  told  you  he  had  changed 
his  mind.  You  remember  ? ' ' 

"Yes—  " 

"Did  he  give  you  his  reason?" 

"Yes— he  did—  " 

"Did  he  bring  Amy  into  it?" 

"  He  did  not—  " 

"He  should  have,  Joe.  For  just  the  afternoon 
before,  Amy  had  made  a  call  on  his  wife — and  had 
said  things  insulting  enough  so  that  her  husband 
had  to  break  off!" 

"Sally  told  you  that!" 

"Why  should  she  lie?"  Ethel  threw  a  quick 
glance  into  Joe's  eyes.  "He  believes  it!"  she 
thought,  and  hurried  on:  "I've  talked  to  her, 
Joe,  in  a  way  that  was  bound  to  get  the  truth.  Oh, 
I've  been  hunting  hard  for  you,  dear!  If  Fanny 
Carr  had  told  her  detectives  to  follow  me  every 
where  I've  been,  and  not  just  hunt  for  the  nasti- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  285 

ness  that  was  in  her  own  mind  about  me — they 
could  have  shown  what  a  hunt  it  has  been !  I  had 
so  little  time,  you  see!  You  were  all  in  the  bal 
ance — you'd  waited  so  long!  Even  now  you've 
found  you  can't  draw  the  plans — the  ones  you  used 
to  dream  about !  I  know  because  I  made  you  try ! 
And  I  went  to  Nourse,  to  your  old  friend  Dwight, 
and  then  to  Sally  Crothers — and  asked  them  all 
to  help  me.  And  as  I  went  on  and  learned  about 
you  as  you  used  to  be,  I  fell  in  love  all  over  again 
with  the  man  I  found — not  Amy's  husband — mine, 
all  mine ! 

"And  I  had  almost  got  you  back — when  Fanny 
Carr,  with  her  nasty  view  of  me  and  what  I  was 
doing,  brought  you  those  perfectly  rotten  reports ! 
And  if  you  believe  them,  Joe,  I'm  through!  Go 
to  Nourse  or  to  Sally  Crothers,  and  they'll  tell 
you  I  have  spoken  the  truth.  If  you  won't  believe 
either  them  or  me,  go  on  alone  without  me — or  else 
marry  Fanny  Carr.  But  if  you  do  believe  me  and 
we're  to  go  on  together  now,  you'll  have  to  drop 
Fanny  for  good  and  all,  and  leave  Amy  way  be 
hind.  You'll  have  to  take  up  your  old  friends  and 
try  to  get  Crothers  into  your  firm.  You  may  think 
your  business  is  yours  and, not  mine — but  if  it's 
my  life,  it 's  my  business,  too !  It 's  like  four  walls 
around  me  now,  and  I  want  to  break  out  and  so 
do  you — away  from  mere  money!  I've  watched 


286  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

you,  dear — seen  what  a  struggle  has  gone  on 
inside  of  you — it  has  worn  you  out !  Haven't  you 
made  money  enough?  Let's  leave  it,  go  to  Paris, 
and  get  to  work  before  it's  too  late  for  you  to  get 
back  what  you  had!  And  if  there's  no  money, 
never  mind.  It  will  come  later  on — but  don 't  let 's 
be  afraid  if  it  doesn't.  Don't  let's  be  afraid  of 
pain—of  fighting  hard  and  suffering,  Joe!  I 
want  more  children!  I  want  you!  I  want  you 
mine,  all  mine,  my  dear — not  her  husband.  Don't 
you  see?" 

She  had  been  eagerly  leaning  toward  him.  Joe 
was  staring  into  the  fire ;  the  look  in  his  eyes  had 
frightened  her  and  made  her  hurry  to  be  through. 

"What  is  it!"  she  asked.  And  she  waited  a 
moment.  "Don't  you  believe  what  I've  told  you, 
Joe!" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  believe  all  that.  I  believe 
a  good  deal  more  than  that."  There  was  a  little 
silence,  and  then  suddenly  he  reached  for  her 
hand,  held  it  tight  and  smiled  into  the  fire  in  a 
twitching  sort  of  way.  "I  haven't  been  quite  as 
blind  as  you  think.  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  what 
you  were  doing.  But — ' '  he  frowned — ' i  I  'm  older 
than  you  are.  I  know  this  job  of  mine  clear 
through — way  back  to  those  dreams  you  spoke  of. 
Pve  had  some  hard  mean  tussles  about  it — lately 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  287 

— and  that 's  my  only  excuse  for  acting  like  a  damn 
fool  as  I  did — the  other  day.  No  use  in  talking  of 
that  any  more — or  of — Amy  either.  She's — 
dead." 

"Joe!"  Ethel  whispered.  Tears  came  in  her 
eyes.  He  went  steadily  on : 

"She  had  some  fine  points — you'll  never  know. 
There  were  things  we  needn't  talk  about  now. 
But  you've  made  me  see  things,  too.  I  don't 
think  she'll  be  in  the  way  any  more — I  think  we'll 
be  able  to  speak  of  her." 

"Of  course!  We  must!  I  want  to,  dear!" 
Ethel's  voice  was  shaking. 

'  '  Not  now. ' '  With  an  effort  he  rose.  ' '  There 's 
something  else  to  worry  about.  You  don't  quite 
know  me  yet,  you  see." 

* '  What  do  you  mean  ? ' '  She  had  risen,  too,  and 
caught  his  arm.  "You're  not  well,  Joe!  You're 
white  as  a  sheet ! "  He  laughed  a  little. 

"  I  'm  not  quite  right.  Something  wrong  in  here, 
I  guess."  He  pressed  one  hand  to  the  base  of  his 
brain  and  scowled  as  though  it  hurt  him.  "Noth 
ing  serious,  probably.  But  before  it  goes  too  far, 
I  want  you  to  know  that  when  I  get  well  I  'm  going 
to  have  a  try  at  all  that — the  work  you  spoke  of. 
I'm  going  to  try — but  I  may  be  too  late!  I  may 
be  older  than  you  think!'9  The  tone  of  his  voice 


288  HIS  SECOND  WIFE 

was  sharp  and  strained.  *  *  I  don  >t  know, ' '  he  said. 
'The  doctor  may.  About  him— that's  another 
point!  It's  a  nerve  specialist  we  need!  Tele 
phone  your  doctor  and  have  him  send  one  here  to 
night  !  I  >m  sorry,  Ethel— damnably ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SHE  got  him  to  bed.  The  specialist  came,  and 
when  he  had  examined  Joe  he  had  a  talk  with 
Ethel  that  left  her  very  frightened.  After  that 
came  days  and  nights,  when  Joe,  as  though  in  de 
lirium,  said  things  in  a  jumble  which  revealed  to 
her  the  inner  chaos  he  had  gone  through  in  the  last 
few  weeks.  He  talked  of  Amy  loyally,  even  plead 
ing  for  her  at  times,  excusing  her.  And  he  talked 
of  Ethel  in  many  moods.  Now  he  was  angry  at 
her  interference ;  again  he  saw  her  side  of  it,  and 
then  his  love  for  her  would  rise.  More  often  still, 
he  talked  about  work,  and  here  again  the  struggle 
went  on.  Money,  money,  money — figures,  calcu 
lations,  schemes  and  rivals,  heavy  chances.  But 
suddenly  all  this  was  gone,  and  in  a  pitiful  anger 
at  his  own  futility  he  would  storm  at  himself  for 
not  being  able  to  put  on  paper  his  early  dreams. 

But  the  weeks  dragged  by,  and  at  last  she  felt 
He  was  coming  back  to  sanity.  With  his  partner, 
then,  she  conspired  to  take  Joe  over  to  Paris  in 
April,  to  stay  for  a  year  if  he  would  agree.  And 
as  part  of  the  conspiracy,  Ethel  had  several  meet 
ings  with  Nourse  and  Sally  Crothers,  in  the  hope 

289 


290  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

of  bringing  Sally's  husband  into  the  firm  to  be 
there  in  Joe's  absence.  This  was  far  from  easy, 
for  Crothers  naturally  held  back ;  he  did  not  care 
to  commit  himself  until  he  knew  that  Joe  would 
agree.  And  whether  Joe  would  agree  or  not  was 
by  no  means  certain.  Watching  him  as  his  health 
came  back,  Ethel  wondered  how  he  would  be  when 
he  returned  to  the  office.  How  much  of  what  he 
had  said  to  her,  the  first  night  of  his  illness,  had 
come  only  from  a  mind  keyed  up  ?  How  much  of 
his  promise  would  he  remember?  Men  sick  and 
men  well  are  in  separate  worlds.  She  could  not 
speak  of  it  to  Joe,  for  the  doctor  had  forbidden  it. 
At  the  end  of  another  month,  however,  Joe  was 
up  and  about  again ;  and  soon,  in  spite  of  the  doc 
tor  's  instructions,  he  was  back  at  his  office  hard 
at  work.  This  of  course  looked  ominous.  What 
was  he  doing?  She  could  not  discover.  For  his 
partner,  over  the  telephone,  was  far  from  satisfac 
tory.  Now  that  he  had  Joe  back  again  in  that 
beloved  office  of  theirs,  his  manner  toward  Ethel 
seemed  to  her  to  be  gruff  and  unfriendly,  to  say 
the  least.  "Stand-offish  to  the  last  degree — as 
though  he  believed  he  could  handle  Joe  all  by  him 
self!"  she  thought  in  annoyance.  At  last  she 
sent  for  him  one  day  and  gave  him  quite  a  piece  of 
her  mind;  and  although  not  fully  successful,  she 
at  least  made  him  acquiesce  in  the  plan  she  and 

I 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  291 

Sally  had  concocted  for  a  little  gathering  to  take 
place  one  night  the  following  week. 

It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock  upon  the  evening 
in  question ;  and  in  her  room,  at  her  dressing-table, 
Ethel  was  completing  her  toilet.  They  were  going 
to  dine  with  the  Crothers',  and  Joe  was  nervous 
about  it. 

4  *  Come  on,  Ethel,  hurry  up!" 

"Yes,  love,  I'm  almost  ready  now.  Are  you 
sure  the  car  is  at  the  door?" 

"It's  been  there  nearly  half  an  hour!" 

"That's  good.    Just  a  minute  more." 

As  he  angrily  lit  a  cigarette,  she  looked  in  the 
glass  at  him  and  smiled.  "How  he  dreads  it, 
poor  dear,"  she  was  thinking,  as  he  strode  into 
the  living-room,  "meeting  Sally  and  all  his  old 
friends."  She  frowned.  "Heaven  knows  I  dread 
it  myself.  What  am  I  going  to  say  to  them  all? 
And  suppose  they  don't  care  for  me  in  the  least? 
.  .  .  Well,  it  will  soon  be  over."  Presently  Joe 
popped  in  at  the  door: 

"Look  here!    If  you're  not  dressed  enough — " 

"I'm  all  ready  now,"  was  her  placid  reply. 
"Don't  you  think  I  look  rather  nice?" 

"Oh,  yes.    You'll  do." 

"Thank  you,  dear.  Aren't  you  going  to  kiss 
me?" 


292  HIS  SECOND   WIFE 

"No!    Yes!  .  .  .  Now  come  on!" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  at  him. 

"It's  beginning  so  well,"  murmured  Sally  to 
Ethel,  as  they  went  in  to  dinner.  "Steady,  my 
child." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right!"  was  the  reply,  and  Ethel 
smiled  excitedly.  The  chorus  of  exclamations 
that  had  greeted  Joe  and  herself  had  been  so  warm 
and  gay  and  real.  There  had  been  no  time  for 
awkwardness.  In  a  moment  after  their  entrance, 
the  hubbub  of  talk  and  laughter  had  gone  right  on 
as  though  nothing  had  happened.  At  table  it 
continued  still,  and  she  felt  herself  borne  along 
on  the  tide.  She  looked  at  Joe,  who  was  on 
Sally's  right,  and  she  thought  he  was  doing  exceed 
ingly  well.  And  as  for  these  old  friends  of  his,, 
as  she  rapidly  scanned  their  faces,  they  looked  far 
from  formidable.  On  her  left  side  Sally's  hus 
band,  a  tall  dark  creature  with  nice  eyes,  was  tell 
ing  her  about  the  men — two  or  three  writers,  an 
architect  and  a  portrait  painter  rather  well  known, 
whose  pictures  she  had  read  about.  She  had  al 
ready  learned  from  Sally  what  the  women  did  with 
themselves.  They  worked,  they  went  to  women's 
clubs,  they  dined  and  did  the  social  side.  One  of 
them  spoke  for  suffrage,  another  was  a  sculptress, 
one  sang,  one  had  a  baby.  They  did  not  look  sol- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  293 

emn  in  the  least.     Everything  went  so  naturally. 

1  i Well,  here  I  am  at  last,"  she  thought.  She 
kept  throwing  quick  little  glances  about.  Was  it 
all  so  much  worth  while,  she  wondered,  Yes, 
they  were  very  pleasant  and  nice.  But  she  had 
expected — well,  something  more,  a  kind  of  a  bril 
liancy  in  their  eyes  and  the  things  they  were  say 
ing.  For  here  were  Art  and  Music,  Movements, 
Causes  and  Ideas,  and  goodness  only  knew  what 
else !  Here  were  the  people  who  really  saw  some 
thing  richer  and  deeper  in  life  than  the  sort  of 
existence  Amy  had  led — great  bright  vistas  lead 
ing  off  from  the  city  as  it  was  today  to  some 
dazzling  promised  land.  She  thought  of  the  little 
history ' '  prof. ? '  They  were  so  cosy  about  it  here ! 
She  did  not  want  them  to  be  " highbrows" — 
Heaven  forbid!  But  they  took  it  all  so  easily! 

She  thought  of  the  struggles  she  had  been 
through  in  order  to  get  where  she  was  tonight,  the 
ardent  hopes  and  the  despairs,  and  all  the  eager 
planning.  And  just  for  a  moment  there  came  to 
her  some  little  realization  of  those  other  women 
still  outside,  in  this  city  of  so  many  worlds,  each 
with  her  particular  world,  her  bright  and  shining 
goal,  her  shrine,  and  pushing  and  scheming  to  get 
in.  She  recalled  the  fierce  light  in  Amy 's  eyes  and 
the  tone  of  her  voice:  "I  may  be  too  late!" 
Amy  had  wanted  only  money,  and  people  like  that. 


294  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

But  hoiv  hard  she  had  wanted  it !  ...  These  peo 
ple  took  it  so  pleasantly;  they  seemed  so  snug  in 
their  little  group.  She  wondered  if  she  would  be 
come  like  that.  No,  she  decided,  most  certainly 
not !  And  suddenly  she  realized  that  this  was  only 
one  more  step  in  the  life  she  was  to  lead  in  this 
town.  These  people?  For  a  time  perhaps. 
Then  others — always  others!  That  was  how  it 
was  in  New  York. 

Ethel  gave  a  queer  little  laugh — which  at  once 
she  pretended  had  been  caused  by  something 
Sally's  husband  had  said.  And  she  listened  to 
him  attentively  now.  "There's  so  much  time  for 
everything!  I'm  only  twenty-five!"  she  thought. 
She  turned  to  the  painter  on  her  right,  and  was 
soon  talking  rapidly. 

The  moments  seemed  to  fly  away.  Now  they 
had  left  the  men  to  smoke.  But  soon  the  men  had 
followed  them,  and  every  one  was  smoking,  and 
Ethel  was  trying  a  cigarette.  The  talk  ran  on, 
about  this  and  that.  But  over  on  her  side  of  the 
room,  Sally  had  led  the  conversation  back  to  Joe's 
old  student  days,  to  the  Beaux  Arts  and  life  in 
the  Quarter.  Ethel  heard  snatches  from  time  to 
time,  and  she  kept  throwing  vigilant  glances  over 
at  her  husband's  face.  He  seemed  to  be  respond 
ing,  with  a  hungriness  that  thrilled  his  wife. 
Again  he  would  fall  silent,  with  an  anxious  gleam 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  295 

in  his  eyes.  "He's  wondering  if  he's  too  old!" 
she  thought,  and  she  crossed  the  room  and  joined 
them. 

Sally  was  cleverly  drawing  him  out  about  some 
of  those  'early  plans  of  his.  And  though  awkward 
at  first,  he  was  warming  up.  In  the  room  the 
hubbub  died  away.  "They're  listening  to  Joe!" 
thought  Ethel.  Joe  kept  talking  on  and  on. 
Every  few  moments  some  one  would  break  in  to 
ask  him  something,  or  to  raise  a  little  laugh. 
Ethel  tingled  with  pride  in  him,  and  with  hope  for 
the  success  of  her  scheming. 

Now  the  crucial  time  arrived.  For  one  by  one 
the  guests  had  gone,  till  only  she  and  Joe  and 
Nourse  remained  with  Sally  and  her  husband. 
The  moment  for  springing  the  great  idea  had  come 
at  last.  Nourse  was  to  do  the  talking.  That  had 
been  arranged  ahead,  at  a  meeting  of  Nourse  and 
the  two  wives.  But  all  at  once  in  a  panic  now, 
Ethel  knew  that  Nourse  would  bungle  it.  Why 
had  she  entrusted  so  much  to  this  man?  Had  he 
ever  shown  tact  in  his  whole  life?  And  why  so 
soon?  Oh,  it  had  been  rash!  The  evening  had 
passed  so  gorgeously.  Why  not  have  waited  and 
had  other  evenings  to  pave  the  way  and  make  it 
sure?  She  tried  to  signal  to  Nourse  to  stop  him, 
but  he  could  or  would  not  hear !  Now  he  was  get 
ting  ready  to  speak. 


296  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

"Well,"  he  said,  rising  and  turning  on  Ethel  a 
curious  smile,  "I  guess  it's  time  I  was  going 
home" 

She  stared  at  him  in  blank  relief.  So  he  had 
some  sense  about  things,  after  all. 

"But  look  here,  Bill,"  said  her  husband,  "be 
fore  you  go,  let's  give  these  scheming  women  of 
ours  to  understand  we  don't  want  'em  to  meddle 
in  our  affairs." 

"Eight,"  growled  Nourse.  And  a  moment 
later  the  three  men  confronted  two  astonished 
wives,  and  Bill  was  gravely  announcing,  "We've 
done  this  thing  all  by  ourselves.  The  firm  is 
'Nourse,  Lanier  and  Crothers.'  And  from  this 
night  on  we  propose  to  do  business  without  any 
interference  from  wives.  Understand?"  He 
frowned  menacingly.  "We  settled  that  this 
afternoon.  And  the  next  thing  we  decided  was 
that  Joe  packs  up  this  wife  of  his,  whether  she 
happens  to  like  it  or  not,  and  takes  her  over  to 
Paris.  See?  And  if  she  tries  to  keep  him  from 
work  by  yanking  him  all  around  to  the  shops—" 

While  Nourse  growled  on  in  his  surly  way, 
Ethel  slipped  quietly  into  the  hall — where  pres 
ently  Sally  with  one  arm  about  her  was  proffering 
a  handkerchief  and  murmuring, 

"Use  mine,  dear." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ON"  the  night  before  they  sailed  for  France, 
long  after  she  had  gone  to  bed  Ethel  came 
out  in  her  wrapper  into  the  warm  dark  living- 
room.  There  was  something  she  had  forgotten  to 
do,  and  she  wanted  to  get  it  off  her  mind.  She 
switched  on  the  light  by  the  doorway,  and  looked 
about  her  smiling,  but  with  a  little  shiver,  too. 

The  ghost  was  gone — or  nearly  so.  Already 
the  room  had  been  stripped  bare.  Only  Ethel's 
desk  was  left,  and  a  chair  or  two  and  the  long, 
heavy  table  with  a  lamp  at  either  end.  Amy's 
picture  was  still  on  the  table,  but  it  lay  now  on  its 
back  and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  as  though  it 
knew  it  must  soon  depart.  Tomorrow  the  movers 
would  finish  their  work.  Soon  somebody  else's 
things  would  be  here,  and  somebody  else's  life 
would  pour  in  and  fill  the  room  and  make  it  new. 
Somebody  else.  What  kind  of  a  woman?  An 
other  Amy,  or  Fanny  Carr,  or  Sally  Crothers  or 
Mrs.  Grewe?  What  a  funny,  complicated  town. 
On  her  return  a  year  from  now,  Ethel  had  already 
decided  to  take  a  small  house  near  Washington 
Square.  How  long  would  that  experiment  last? 
Doubtless  in  the  years  ahead  she  would  try  other 
homes,  one  after  the  other.  "Why  do  we  move 

297 


298  HIS    SECOND   WIFE 

so  in  New  York!"  She  thought  of  that  plan  of 
her  husband's  for  the  future  city  street,  with  long 
rows  on  either  hand  of  huge  apartment  buildings 
with  receding  terraces,  numberless  hanging  gar 
dens  looking  into  the  street  below.  And  she  won 
dered  whether  the  city  would  ever  be  anything  like 
that?  "In  New  York  all  things  are  possi 
ble."  .  .  . 

"However."  Ethel  went  to  her  desk  and  rum 
maged  for  paper,  pen  and  ink.  Then  she  took  out  . 
of  a  cubby-hole  a  bulky  letter  and  read  it  through. 
It  was  the  "round-robin"  come  again  on  its  an 
nual  journey  over  the  land.  It  had  been  in  a 
lonely  mining  camp,  on  a  cattle  ranch,  in  a  mill 
town  and  in  cities  large  and  small.  There  were 
many  kinds  of  handwriting  here,  and  widely  dif 
ferent  stories  of  the  growth,  the  swift  unfolding, 
of  the  lives  of  a  new  generation  of  women. 
"Girls  like  me."  She  read  it  through. 

Then  she  took  up  her  pen  and  began  to  write 
swiftly : 

"I  have  been  here  for  over  three  years — but  it 
was  hard  to  write  before,  because  everything  was 
far  from  clear."  She  stopped  and  frowned. 
"How  much  shall  I  tell  them?"  An  eagerness  to 
be  frank  and  tell  all  was  mingled  with  that 
feeling  of  Anglo-Saxon  reticence  which  had  been 
bred  in  Ethel's  soul  back  in  the  town  in  Ohio. 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  299 

"Besides,  I  haven't  time,"  she  thought. 

"I  feel,"  she  wrote,  "as  though  1  were  just  out 
of  danger — barely  out.  In  danger,  I  mean,  of 
nervously  dashing  about  after  nothing  until  I  got 
wrinkled  and  old  at  forty — nerves  in  shreds.  I 
might  have  done  that.  I  have  met  a  nerve  spe 
cialist  lately — and  the  stories  he  has  told  me  about 
women  in  this  town ! 

"However!  I  want  to  make  myself  clear.  Am 
I  a  high-brow?  Not  at  all.  I  want  good  clothes 
— I  love  to  shop — and  I  propose  to  go  on  shop 
ping.  If  you  do  not,  let  me  tell  you,  my  dears, 
that  the  men  in  New  York  are  like  all  the  rest — 
and  you  would  soon  be  leading  a  very  lonely  ex 
istence!  And  I  don't  want  that,  I  want  bushels 
of  friends — and  some  of  them  men — decidedly! 
I  want  to  dance  and  dine  about — but  I  don't  want 
to  be  religious  about  it !  Nor  frantic  and  get  my 
self  into  a  state! 

"Well,  but  I  did  start  out  like  that.  When  I 
came  here  to  live — "  She  hesitated.  "No,  I'd 
better  scratch  that  out." 

"Thank  Heaven  I  got  married,"  she  wrote, 
"and  fell  in  love  with  my  husband."  Again  she 
stopped  with  a  quick  frown.  "And  I  had  a  baby. 
And  I  began  to  find  something  real."  Another 
pause,  a  long  one. 

"I  had  quite  a  struggle  after  that.    I  was  all 


300  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

hemmed  in — "  she  stopped  again — "by  the  city 
I  found  when  I  first  arrived.  But  I  huffed  and 
I  puffed  and  I  hunted  about — and  at  last  I  discov 
ered  our  New  York — the  town  we  girls  used  to 
dream  about  at  home  in  all  those  talks  we  had! 
Oh,  I  don't  mean  I  have  found  it  yet — but  I've 
felt  it,  though,  and  had  one  good  look.  I  dined 
with  some  people.  How  silly  that  sounds.  But 
never  mind — the  point  is  not  me,  but  the  fact  that 
this  city  is  really  and  truly  crammed  full  of  the 
things  we  girls  used  to  get  so  excited  about — Art, 
you  know,  and  Music  of  course,  and  people  who 
make  these  things  their  God.  The  town  opens  up 
if  you  look  at  it  right — and  you  find  Movements — 
Politics — you  hear  people  talk — you  see  suffrage 
parades — I  marched  in  one  not  long  ago  feeling 
like  Joan  of  Arc!  And  you  find  men,  too,  who 
are  doing  things.  Big  schemes  for  skyscrapers 
and  homes !  I  mean  that  our  New  York  is  here!" 

Again  there  came  a  pause  in  the  writing.  Her 
eyes  looked  excited.  She  smiled  and  frowned. 
Now  to  finish  it  off ! 

"What  I  want  of  it  all  I  am  not  yet  sure — for 
me  personally,  I  mean.  But  there  is  my  husband, 
to  begin  with,  and  his  work  that  I  can  help  grow 
— and  his  old  friends.  And  they  are  not  all.  I 
keep  hearing  of  new  ones  I  must  meet — and  they 
are  mixed  in  with  all  those  things  I  have  discov- 


HIS   SECOND   WIFE  301 

ered  in  the  town.  A  few  of  these  people  were 
born  here — but  most  have  come  from  all  over  the 
country.  Sometimes  I  shut  my  eyes  and  ask — 
*  Where  are  you  now,  all  over  the  land,  you  others 
who  are  to  come  to  New  York  and  be  friends  of 
mine  and  of  my  children?' 

"I  want  children — more  than  one.  How  many 
I  am  not  quite  sure.  That's  another  point — you 
decide  these  things. "  She  frowned  and  scratched 
this  sentence  out.  "And  children  grow — and  the 
idea  of  bringing  them  up  makes  me  feel  very 
young  and  humble,  too.  But  in  that  we  are  all 
in  the  same  boat — for  the  whole  country,  I  sup 
pose,  is  a  good  deal  the  same.  What  a  queer  and 
puzzling,  gorgeous  age  we  are  just  beginning — 
all  of  us!  I  wonder  what  I  shall  make  of  it? 
What  shall  I  be  like  ten  years  from  now?  How 
much  shall  I  mean  to  my  husband — and  to  other 
men  and  women?  But  most  of  all  to  women — for 
we  are  coming  together  so!  I  wonder  what  we 
shall  make  of  it  all?  I  wonder  how  much  we 
women  who  march — march  on  and  on  to  every 
thing — are  really  going  to  mean  in  the  world? 

"Oh,  how  solemn!  Good-night,  my  dears!  A 
kiss  to  every  one  of  you!" 

She  folded  her  letter  with  the  rest,  and  then  she 
quickly  squeezed  them  all  into  a  large  envelope, 


302  HIS   SECOND   WIFE 

which  she  addressed  to  Miss  Barbara  Wells,  Bis 
marck,  North  Dakota.  Ethel's  eyes  were  very 
bright.  She  sniffed  a  little  and  smiled  at  herself. 
"Oh,  don't  be  a  baby!  It's  all  over  now,  you 
know — I  mean  it's  just  beginning!" 

She  stopped  for  a  moment  by  the  table,  with 
the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  looked  down  at  Amy's 
picture. 

"That  is  all  any  one  needs  to  know." 

Her  look  was  pitying,  tender,  but  a  little  curi 
ous,  too. 

*  *  I  wonder  what  you  were  like  at  my  age  ?  I 
wonder  what  you  went  through,  poor  dear?  .... 
But  it's  over  now — all  over.  All  we  don't  like 
will  fade  away,  and  you'll  grow  so  beautiful  again. 
Susette  will  love  her  mother.  .  .  .  But  she  won't 
be  just  like  you,  my  dear." 

Ethel  went  slowly  out  of  the  room.  At  the 
doorway  she  switched  off  the  light,  and  the  bare, 
empty  room  was  left  in  the  dark.*  The  photo 
graph  was  invisible  now.  On  the  street  below, 
a  motor  stopped;  and  there  was  a  murmur  of 
voices,  a  laugh.  Tomorrow  somebody  else  would 
be  here. 

THE  END 

PRINTED   IN    THK    UNITED    STATES    OV   AMERICA. 


28  1832 
AUG    7    1933 

JUL  la    1937 


LD  21-50W-8,, 


32 


YB  31827 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


